Like many others, I tuned in to “Quiet on Set,”, which revealed the hidden abuse of child stars behind the scenes. This series, particularly resonant with those of us who grew up in the ’90s, prompted a profound reevaluation of the shows from our youth. The recent revelations about “America’s Dad” and other beloved public figures have been shocking, exposing them as predators and casting a shadow over our entertainment icons.
The realization that numerous adults were present during those times yet remained silent—or worse, silenced those who spoke out—is staggering. The documentary was an eye-opener for me.
However, this morning, an article caught my attention. It discussed the discontent among some cast members of “Quiet on Set” regarding the lack of communication about the series airing on ID Network. A few are now expressing regret, stating that had they known it would be aired on ID, they would have declined to participate. They worry that their stories, and the gravity of the issues they raise, may not be receiving the serious consideration they warrant.
I’m perplexed by the weight given to the network broadcasting our stories. Whether it’s the investigative lens of “2020” or the crime-focused gaze of Investigation Discovery, isn’t the essence that the narrative is conveyed with fidelity? If the harrowing journeys and the shadows of abuse endured by the victims are brought to light, why does the channel of delivery stir such debate? For the regular ID audience, who are connoisseurs of crime and inquiry, the platform should not dilute the potency of the message, but rather serve as a conduit for the voices that demand to be heard.
To quote Alexa Nikola, she states:
“We have to live with our stories and how they were treated by ID and Maxine forever while they see it as leverage for future projects…. There’s nothing bingeable about trauma.”
Yet, my perspective diverges. In the tapestry of today’s society, it is the threads of sensationalism, horror, and trauma that enthrall the masses. This voracious appetite for the macabre is what dominates the zeitgeist. It’s a melancholic reflection that the integrity of these stories may be under scrutiny, doubted perhaps by viewers, or even the very individuals who bared their souls. It’s the underlying dread that their confessions might be dismissed. However, contrary to their fears, the world has indeed taken notice.
As the final credits of “Quiet on Set” roll, the echoes of the revelations linger in the minds of viewers. The series, a tapestry woven with threads of courage and vulnerability, leaves an indelible mark on the collective memory of a generation. It stands as a testament to the resilience of those who endured, and a call to action for an industry in dire need of reform. While the platform of its unveiling—ID Network—may be debated, the imperative message it conveys transcends boundaries, urging us to listen more intently and advocate more fiercely for the silent voices that have only just begun to speak.
A cry pierced the air, a symphony of irritation and mild alarm; it heralded no menace, only the onset of a deluge of tears that dared to breach the ramparts of my heart, long fortified. There, in her vibrant fuchsia chariot, the little girl and her companion sat, teetering on the edge of too-grown for such whimsical rides. Midway through their suburban odyssey, the spirited steed faltered, its electric lifeblood drained, leaving dreams momentarily stranded.
“DADDYYYYYYY!” He was still inside, and these young ladies had a block to drive.
Suddenly he bolts out of the house as if he had been catapulted but some unseen force, hops down the four small steps, landing on the sidewalk with a WAP! Within seconds he makes his way down the sidewalk and around the back of the Jeep. Grabbing onto the back, he begins to run, pushing them down the sidewalk and sending them all into laughter.
This is the moment that I burst into tears.
It dawned on me then, the stark realization that the bond I yearned for with my father was a dream unfulfilled, now lost to time. A year and a half had passed since his departure. His health had always been fragile, leading to numerous scares, but our estrangement made these moments less poignant. In truth, he had been absent from my life; thus, his passing did not leave a void. On the day of his passing, my tears were not for the loss of a beloved father, for our love had never blossomed. Instead, I felt a peculiar sense of curiosity. Visiting him a week before, I saw a man unknown to me. He lay silent, eyes closed, hands twisted in pain or discomfort, his mouth agape. Caretakers attended to him, wiping away drool, moistening his lips, offering water through a sponge.
A solitary encounter with him became memorable when I played a song from my childhood from the movie, “An American Tale,” which we cherished. His reaction was unexpected—his face contorted, tears flowed, and he emitted sounds of deep distress.
Before me was a stranger, a man whose life had barely brushed against mine. I didn’t know his favorite color. I did not know his favorite food. I didn’t know what genre of movie he preferred. I knew little of him—his likes, dislikes, or passions—save for his love of music and women. Whether his feelings for us were born of love or guilt, I could not discern.
I’m not going to say that he never tried, but there were certain wounds too deep, etched onto the soul of my being that wouldn’t allow for that to fully happen. There were rare occasions in which I had been the one to try. I’d reach out to him with a plan of action. We’d talk for hours going over what our lives had been up to that point and sprinkling in how we had to try to fix it, this, us. We’d hang up the phone, I’d feel light, and accomplished. That bit of motivation would then be followed up with silence. He would disappear and we wouldn’t speak for what would be for a couple of years after that. This would be our pattern until the day he died.
As a reader, I was aware of the potential regret of not connecting with him, a sentiment echoed by my family. Yet, now that he is gone, it is not regret that weighs on me but a profound disappointment—a longing to experience the sorrow that eludes me, the natural grief of a child for their father.
For months after he died, I would anxiously wait for the moment everyone had been warning me about. The moment of missing him, of yearning to hear his voice, or to hold his cold hands (his hands were always cold- “Cold hands, warm heart” he’d say!) but that moment never really came. I would try to sit in silence and see if I could feel his presence. I’d try my hardest to pay close attention to my dreams to see if maybe he’d visit me there. I soon realized I was reverting to childhood, always waiting for him, wanting him to visit, always being met with disappointment. So, I gave up again like I had years back.
Perhaps I won’t grieve as I did upon witnessing my neighbor, his offspring in tow, navigating a bubblegum-pink Barbie Jeep under the somber March skies. Yet, there’s solace in the breakthrough, a quiet epiphany embraced in solitude. It was a moment graced with a tender reflection of him, untainted by even a whisper of bitterness.
Flipping through a kaleidoscope of snapshots, it’s like a whirlwind tour of the many ‘me’s I’ve been! From the zany outfits to the cast of quirky characters I’ve moonlighted as, it’s been quite the show. Take the beach life, for example. When you’re young, the beach is your stage, but it’s not all sunshine and seashells, especially if you’re flying solo. The local beach brigade? A motley crew of sun-toasted, merry-makers in their golden years, toasting to the good ol’ days with a never-ending happy hour. They’re living it up—or so it seems—riding the wave of yesteryears, chasing a mirage of ‘more’ that’s just a bit too far out of reach.
Ah, paradise—a solo gig can feel like a tropical time-out. Days blend into each other, an infinite loop of sand, sun, and the same ol’ sea. Sure, Florida was a blast with its endless summer vibe, but even paradise can get old. How, you ask? Well, imagine the same sunny script, day in, day out, even the palm trees start to look like party props after a while. At first, it’s an exotic escape worth every sacrifice. But give it time, and you start to wonder what you traded in for this beachy dream.
Then comes the moment of truth, drawing that line in the sand—literally. To stay or not to stay? That is the beachy question. It’s like the ocean’s own siren song, luring you back to its shores. I’ve packed my bags for Florida not once, but twice, and I’d be fibbing if I said a third encore isn’t tempting. But hey, if I’ve waved goodbye twice, there’s gotta be a reason, right? It’s the same back-and-forth with my hometown—how many farewells and reunions can one have?
Gazing at these piles of photos, the faces, the places, it’s clear there’s a whole world out there waiting for me to dive in. I’m jazzed about discovering my next grand scene. Until then, I’ll keep on trekking, little adventures at a time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find my next ‘spotlight’ in the most unexpected place.
“I wonder where my heart will land, and if it’ll land where my body lies.”- Natal Galvan
They are among us, yet they fade from my sight. No longer do I perceive the addicts; instead, I see the individuals they were, the selves they long to reclaim, the potential they possess. Their narratives are woven into their attire, their distress sculpted upon their visages. Occasionally, I discern the tears that mar their cheeks—tears ignored, for who casts a glance their way? What does it matter? Those tears are silent pleas for aid. Yet we don’t acknowledge their existence.
For some, their prospects were snatched away; for others, surrendered willingly. Their anticipated futures dissolved, leaving only the anguish of the present. Some occupy the desolate corners, chilled and damp; others wander the byways, seeking a path to renewal. Hope has eluded many, their strength waning. Among them are veterans who once battled for our freedoms, entrepreneurs who steered vast enterprises, individuals blessed with joyful beginnings, and those seemingly destined for relentless hardship.
If you pause to contemplate a moment in their lives, your soul cannot help but be burdened, for our imaginings pale in comparison to their stark realities. Thus, we must embrace compassion and empathy. Rather than averting our gaze, let us offer a simple smile—a beacon of hope to sustain them a moment longer.
They are all around us, invisible to some. But I see them—I see the humanity that endures within.
I just recently returned from my annual haunted vacation with friends. It’s something that we have been doing for the past few years. We live in different states so once a year, over the course of the year, we compile ideas of places where we would like to visit that are either very haunted or extremely spooky. This year we decided to venture off to West Virginia and our first location of three was the abandoned amusement park near Princeton, WV.
Not many know of or have heard of Lake Shawnee outside of those who live nearby, though the history of this abandon amusement park is quite rich. Before opening as an amusement park in the 1920’s, it was home to Native American Indians, more precisely the Shawnee tribe. Eventually, when the amusement park opened up in 1926, it had unknowingly been built over an old Native American burial ground. It is said that because of this disturbance that the land was cursed. In my opinion, I don’t believe that it is the Native Americans themselves that have cursed the land but, more so, the energy of the tragedy that followed thousands of years later. A tale as old as time, and so tragic that one cannot help but know that, it is this story that contributes in the curse that seemed to have befallen over the park.
Hundreds of years ago, the Clay family, the first family to settle in this area of West Virginia, had established their home on this very land, and so it wasn’t very long after doing so that the Native Americans decided to take revenge on the family that had stolen their land. The Shawnee tribe sought their revenge in 1785 by immediately killing off two the family’s children, and later kidnapping a third and burning him alive at the stake. Michael Clay, their father, quickly sought revenge on the Native Americans killing a few of the Shawnee Indians.
Centuries later, the land was bought and made into an amusement park opening up in 1926 and stayed operation until 1967, in which it ended up being closed down due to failed health inspections. Throughout its operation, there were three noted deaths at the park. Two of the deaths involved drowning (one little boy was found at the bottom of the pool after his arm was caught in a pipe, while the other had been a little boy left by his mother for the day and when she returned to get him, he had been found floating at the bottom of the pool), the third death was of a little girl who had been riding the swing ride at the time and her swing had collided into a concession stand killing her instantly. A fourth death has been speculated but has still not proven, or at least directly linked to Lake Shawnee, and that is the death of a gentleman who had been coming down one of the lake’s slides when he went over the side, smashing his head onto the cement at the lake’s edge below. The park featured a Ferris wheel, a swing ride, a swimming pool, the lake, concession stands, as well as cabins for overnight stays. The park was the first of its kind in the area and was very popular, especially amongst the local residents.
After being closed for nearly two decades, the park was reopened in 1985 after it was purchased by a former employee who previously had worked for the park. However, due to increasing insurance rates, it was only three years later that the park had to be closed down for continuous insurance rate hikes. The owner, Mr. White tried to continue running the park by sponsoring fishing tournaments as well as off-roading events. It was throughout this time where construction for the mud bog, that they unearthed human remains, later confirming that the land had served as an old Indian burial ground. Since then, further disruption of the land has stopped, and it has continued to serve as a site for archeological investigation.
Today the park is operated as an abandoned amusement park by the son of Mr. White along with a few other local residents. The park is operated as a non-profit organization and all money made after paying their overhead is donated to local charities individually picked by those who run the amusement park.
In order to gain access into the park, you must first make an appointment ahead of time. The park is operated voluntarily by those with full-time jobs. Access into the park is based around availability of these volunteers, and although you would be able to make an appointment for virtually any time or date, unless you make an appointment you can guarantee that you won’t be making it onto the property and will only be able to observe very little from the property’s fence.
When visitng the park, we opted for the overnight stay but this is not the only activity offered. You’re more than welcome to do a simple day tour of the property. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by your host whom we spend 90 mins with going over the history as well as a tour of the lay of the land. Our host ended up being the son of Mr. White, the owner who ran the property from 1985-1988. The passion behind this man towards the old amusement park is something to marvel at. He posseses tons of artifacts such as original jewlery and arrow heads found from the Native American burial sites, as well as authentic pictures from the time of the park being in full operation. He had plenty of stories to share, which he doesn’t publish, so in order for you to hear the stories, you must take the tour.
When our tour was completed, we were left to our own devices. We stationed ourselves in the outdoor dance hall area. There is no electricity other than the lights that are set for the park, which are not many. On the night that we had our stay, the weather dropped down to 28° and so we were in luck to have had a fire pit there. Our host also provided logs of wood free of charge, although we did end up leaving cash for it.
Our paranormal experiences were mild; however we did experience some. It was a windless night, and we were able to communicate with spirits through an old plastic toy pinwheel. It had been left years ago for the spirits of the children who have passed on to play with as a sort of offering. We don’t know exactly who we were communicating with, but they used this pinwheel to let us know that they were there and listening.
Knowing the park’s history and staying on that property overnight is probably what was most eerie of our stay there. We weren’t attacked by ghoulish ghosts. We weren’t run off by scary shadow figures. With its overgrown vines taking over the old attractions, and the morning and nightly mist that is there to greet you, you cannot help but feel a bit of unease. If anything, the cold and the darkness of the night was what ended up being the most frightening experience of it all.
For those that know ghost hunting, you know that while on your hunt, you are not going to sleep at all. Even if we wanted to sleep, the cold hadn’t let us. We were excited to slowly see the sun come up and with it just a bit more warmth, but not by much. After concluding our investigation and thawing out some around the fire pit, we headed off to our final spot, the area of the Native American burial ground where the memorial stone stood.
The stone itself has a unique story to it. Back when it was first discovered that this land was sacred Indian land, the landowners were trying to find the perfect memorial for it. A 6-foot stone was placed on the land temporarily to mark the memorial. That very night that the stone was placed on the land, it rained and over the night and next day they discovered that the stone had sunken 3 feet into the ground. If you look at the stone from a certain angle, the stone looks like a Native American’s head dressed with a feathered head piece. Once the discovery was made of the stone and its unmistakable image, the stone was left as the memorial stone where it is there to this day along with offerings left by those who have toured the park. I, myself left an offering as a “thank you”.
Visiting Lake Shawnee was a memorable experience that we will take with us forever. Simply meeting our host was something short of magical experience considering the energy that fell from him was radiating and contagious. If you ever find yourself in this area of West Virginia, I highly recommend a visit to the park whether as an overnight guest or to take a short day-tour. I promise you won’t forget it.
I don’t know shit about life. All I know is that I know nothing really. My 20’s started off with me knowing exactly what life was about and how to work around it. I quickly learned that there isn’t a way to work around life. You’ve got to work with it. That means you need to live day to day observing what goes on around you. This is how you learn to maneuver your way along with life and the obstacles (lessons) that are bestowed upon us on a day to day basis.
As I was on my way to the grocery store today, I was in a more pensive state of mind than usual. My mind bounced from one topic to the next, and as I thought, I couldn’t help but observe one constant thread creating a link between all of them. The theme being “relationships” and with each fresh new subject that coursed through my mind, I noticed how bonds that we create with others (or lack thereof) really can make or break a situation.
Growing up I was accustomed to watching adults around me be evasive with their friends and even family members. They would ignore phone calls, constantly rescheduled plans that were previously made, and always seemed bothered at having to socialize with others who so badly wanted to socialize with them. It is no wonder that I’ve developed into more of a “right here right now” type of person. I connect with others in the present moment, but once you’re out of my sight, it is what is in front of me that I focus on, not on trying to maintain what was. Unlike my pets or plants, I don’t know how to cultivate and nurture friendships, and with how technology is, it is easier for others to point that out. Now more than ever it is easy to stay in contact with people no matter the distance. Yet in doing so, I feel that it is almost like having to trade your personal freedom and time for making sure others feel important. To me, it feels as though the advancement in technology and being able to stay connected with others has made relationship building a tedious job, something I have to make sure to check off my list, instead of it being something that is naturally sparked in me to do.
There is a level of feeling personally attacked that people feel if you’re not one to participate as often in the every day social connection. I can tell you that as someone who has FB and IG, the fact that I am not constantly liking posts, properly tagging people in pictures, commenting on life events be it minor or major, it has been talked about and brought to my attention. Only those who really know who I am understand that I am not one to be attached to hip to my phone. I could lose my phone and it’ll take me days before even going to the store to replace it because I could care less about having it. If it was not because everything in life is attached to my phone, I’d just as easily have a house line.
So, am I like this because I’ve been conditioned to be so after witnessing those around me do the same? Am I a product of my generation, where I became stuck to how easy things in life were before? Regardless, I know that relationships are important, and I am understanding that although I may not be the greatest at keeping up socially, I have to do a better job at it, even if it is in my own way. Connections are important and to maintain those connections you must put forth time and energy into them. Sure, you may not want to be measured against today’s social standards, but it is still important to show those you love that you do. It’s either invest the time and energy now while you have it or living a deafening life of loneliness and misery later.
I was going over my range of feelings on my way to work today. With all of the unexpectedness that has been going on in my life, complete random s*** that has been throwing me slightly off, I’ve been thrown off kilter yet I still managed to regain my footing. At first I was thinking how much the universe has been loving toying around with me lately. Like if it were some huge kid poking me with a twig to see what I’d do. But my thinking was so off about that. Here’s what I mean, I read my own tarot cards. I follow my own spiritual advisor (or two). I do a lot of inner work. As of late I have been receiving signs pretty much telling me that I need to let go, I need to move towards the path of least resistance, just go with the flow. Although I swore I thought that I already was, my mind was playing tricks on me. I wasn’t. I realized on my way to work today that the universe is throwing me all of these twists and turns because it’s forcing me to let go of control. The universe is trying to force me to let go of everything and just let it all be. It’s strange to realize when you’ve been missing such an obvious message. You feel foolish by not seeing it. In reality when you are so close to the situation how could you see it? That’s like standing nose to screen to the TV and expecting to see the whole picture. So I got the message loud and clear. I know that my life is about to go in some crazy new direction. I can feel it. The vibes are there, the air is thick with the newness. Hence all of the disruption in what my normal day to day is. It’s because of all this newness that my old routine must change. During times of evolving one must always check and get rid of the old. So instead of me trying to control even the small things I am literally putting my feet up, leaning back, and not doing a damn thing. I am just going to be here to receive and to be open to all opportunities that will be thrown my way.
I’m still not used to all the twists and turns and surprising drops that life sometimes takes, however I am getting much better at being able to deal with them without freaking out. I’m still struggling in regards to patiently dealing when other people’s life choices, decisions, and moods affect my day-to-day living or routine. I don’t have a lot of consistency in my life so I cherish the few routines I do have. They are the only times I can really count on to bringing me back to my center. They have become my zen moments. They have become the times that I can count on to escape and get away when need be. When other people disrupt that, it really truly grinds my gears.
In the last few weeks I have found myself countless times having to grit my teeth, bite my tongue, suppress any real opinion for fear of offending feelings. I have a lot of patience for such things because honestly, not everybody deserves to hear a true opinion. Not everyone can take it. Not everybody wants to hear it. “We were born with two ears to listen and one mouth to speak with, that’s two times the listening!” Isn’t that how the saying goes? Well, it is true to be. I am okay with it not always being about me, and having to share opinions or experiences without being asked. But soon patience starts running thin especially when those same people that you’re constantly interacting with start messing with your mojo, and when I mean “mojo” I mean my sacred routines.
I’m going to say that currently in my life there are three major players, which I won’t mention who they are. Each one of these major characters one way or another pull the strings to my puppet, meaning me. It is true when I say that I definitely feel I have regressed back into some of my old codependency ways. Some of those ways being, me not ever wanting to say no, or wanting let others down. Another way being that I do love to rescue and help and make people feel as though they’re being saved, that they’re okay and in good hands. I empty my cup, and empty it until there is no more, and still try to give from my empty cup. Before you know it I am at my wits end about to rip my hair out because I am depleted and drained and don’t know how to get myself out and back into drinking from my own cup again.
The last couple of days I have found much more “me” time and in that time I have concluded that if I want to take reins of my own life again and control the direction in which my future is going, then I definitely have to put my foot down. I started to be more of my authentic self. I make sure that before I leave the house in the morning I imagine myself covering myself from head to toe in thick bubble wrap. This bubble wrap is to deflect any and all sorts of negativity that could come my way, bouncing it right off of me. I have started to note when conflicting situations arise and instead of allowing myself to get caught up in the emotion and feed into it, I just say no more, turn around, and walk away.
I need to really reiterate to myself that I do not need to deal with other people’s shit. When I do, that is when I start losing my life and start living theirs. Regardless of who it is and how much love I have for them, this life experience is a short one and I came here to experience it fully for myself. I need to have that reminder in the back of my mind because it is a very strong and important message. If you’re asking me , it’s actually the most important one in my opinion.
It’s been over a decade that I’ve been working on myself from the inside out. From exercising shadow work to learning new spiritual practicies, I’ve taken a lot of time in getting to know myself as much as possible. In my honest opinion, it’s what truly matters most, enhancing the inside. My journey has had its up as well as downs of course, but it has all been more than well worth it.
I am one to always embrace change and love evolving. It amazes me when I come across questions, reflective questions that really make me dig deep within myself, questions that I feel like I should automatically know the answer to because I’m dealing with myself, but yet, I don’t even have the faintest idea of what the answer truly is. It could take me days to answer a question that is posed upon me. I find that fascinating. What is even more so, are always the answers because they’re never the initial answer that I start with. As I continue digging, the real underlying answers arise, and that’s where the truth of the matter is really embedded.
It started with a small article on finances and how to work on money blocks which led me into a rabbit hole of, well, myself really. Everyday can give you a slight nudge into self discovery you’re open to it. Tonight’s nudge led me into a day dream of future deliciousness to be had. All it takes is a dream, a thought, to produce enough momentum to achieve what you want. It’s really as easy as that.
Awareness. It’s not a skill many people have. I would go as far as to call it a gift because for some I don’t think it could be taught. It is something so common and present, because awareness just is, yet most of your everyday people don’t seem to grasp it, let alone execute it.
In a society in which we are continously moving from one thing to the next, all of which is selfishly acted upon, how could one be aware if the only focal point is that of yourself? Now don’t get me wrong I believe in being selfish. I believe that because people aren’t selfish enough, that is why we find so much anxiety, depression, stress, and inadequacy among people today. But one can be selfish and still be aware. I do believe that awareness will not only give you a bit of a leg up in life in some cases, but will also help avoid unwanted situations. Not to mention people have a level of respect for those who are aware.
Countless frustrating situations could be completely avoided if at least one person would have been aware in any given situation. By being unaware you’re more at risk to find yourself in an unpleasant situation, not only for yourself but others as well. It has the potential to help us through even during the most mundane of events, to those that are more life altering. By being present and aware, we are able to maneuver around life with a bit more ease.
To bring a bit more awareness into my life I took up meditation, and although thats been a bit of a struggle, I can already see a difference in myself and how I handle most situations. Since I’ve been working hard on that, I now see it more often the lack that there is of it within my peers. It’s not my journey to go around preaching the power of awareness. Not at this time anyways. I myself am a student still diving into these lessons, but one cant help to naturally notice that there is a lack of it in society. It’s not heartbreaking. Like I mentioned earlier, everyone has their own journey and we are each at various different stages in our growing process. I have faith that little by little the world is awakening to new ways of thought and in that, they’ll unlock their own sense of awareness.
Natal Galvan 
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