A unique and candid Interview with Laura Cyr – Part 1
Lifelong Student and Explorer of Life and its many Deep Mysteries!
By: Brent Raynes
Laura Cyr, a resident of Washington state, has worn many hats through the years. She’s been a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a postal employee, a UFO student, is a writer, has been on a Native American “vision quest,” is involved in many Native American activities, has had a lot of paranormal experiences, taking all that life has offered, the good and the bad, and ultimately evolved an exceedingly positive view of life, what she fondly calls Walking in Beauty. She’s a dear friend to many (including my wife Joan and I) and this interview is certainly long overdue.
Brent Raynes: Laura, to begin with, please share with our readers a kind of autobiographical description of yourself, about your childhood, about yourself, and how you came to gravitate toward things that are, shall we say considered unconventional, like the paranormal, UFOs and Bigfoot?
Laura Cyr: That is a book right there. I must say that when you first asked me for an interview I was wondering WHY would you want one? My life has been pretty rough in spots but I am a survivor. Still, I didn’t think of myself as THAT unusual because EVERYONE has a story to tell and all of them are very interesting. Years ago this was brought home to me when there was a short lived TV program which I think was called EVERYONE HAS A STORY. On the wall was a map of the United States. A blindfolded man would throw a dart at the map and wherever the dart landed was the place for a show. When they got to the town the dart hit they would take the local telephone directory, close their eyes and open it at random and put their finger down. The name the finger landed on would be the family they interviewed. They would choose one person from the family and start asking questions. Most people thought they were just “ordinary” folks who had never done anything special but every single show was extraordinary. I have always been a “people watcher” but because of that show I became aware that everyone is unique and has some special talent or purpose.
I consider myself a lifelong student. I have always LOVED learning and coming to an understanding of how ALL the pieces fit together. The Lakota use a phrase: Mitakuye Oyasin . (Sounds like Me-talk-ooo-way Oh-Yah-sin) It means ALL MY RELATIONS. This is in recognition that EVERYTHING is related-be it human, plant, animal or mineral. In this past century science is just now catching up with the primitive knowledge that every piece of the puzzle is needed to complete the picture.
The first thing I would like to share with you is my philosophy of life. IF EVERYONE LIVED THE GOLDEN RULE THERE WOULD BE NO NEED OF RELIGION AND WE WOULD HAVE HEAVEN ON EARTH. I have always known this in the deepest core of my being—I believe I came into this Earth Walk already knowing that and am trying to live my life that way. That is what I call WALKING IN BEAUTY. This is a world of duality and everything can be seen or experienced in more than one way. We actually CHOOSE the attitude we experience. I saw a really interesting quote on Facebook a few days ago:
View your life with kindsight. Stop beating yourself up about the mistakes you made in the past. Instead of slapping your forehead and asking, “What was I thinking?” stop and take a deep breath and ask “What was I learning?”
I believe in reincarnation. I HAVE TO, I can remember parts of many past lives that relate directly to incidents in this life. Part of our duty as a fragment of the God essence is to Experience Everything and funnel that information back to the Creator. Some lifetimes are harmonious and pleasant-others are a living Hell but ALL of them are necessary. So go easy when judging others—they are part of Creator/God too. This is just one of those not-so-wonderful lifetimes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hitler or Atilla the Hun passed their tests with flying colors—they did a wonderful job of being BAD. (I just had the visual of all us little “worker bee souls” collecting lifetimes and returning to the Hive. There our experiences are mixed and mingled and fed to the “Queen Bee” and “SHE” grows bigger and more powerful and in turn creates more worker bees to continue the cycle. LOL)
I am the oldest of three daughters. I was born on September 2, 1946. That was Labor Day and my mom always said, “It was most appropriate.” My mother’s name was Betty and her story is rather interesting. My mom was born on or near October 23 in 1919. She was abandoned at birth and left in a basket on the steps of the courthouse in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She was never adopted but grew up in foster homes. Foster children at that time were often used as a source of income and live in help. They were little more than slaves. She told me the children of the house had pretty clothes and good food. She and the other foster children were sent out of the room when the family had ice cream. Their clothes were hand-me-downs and she only had two dresses-one was brown and one was gray. All the foster children slept together in the attic on a mattress on the floor. There was a broken window pane and the snow blew into the room in winter. They huddled together like puppies to share the warmth. My mom went through a series of foster homes and between homes stayed at the orphanage. When couples came to look for a child to adopt all the children would have to line up and that was the worse thing of all. Mom said she was not a pretty child and was thin and gangly like a young colt. I thought of that when I watched the movie THE CIDER HOUSE RULES. Pretty soon she was too old for anyone to want and by the time she was 16 she had left the foster system and struck out on her own to work as a house maid. Family was Very Important to my mother because she never had one. She married twice for brief periods but was unable to have children. She finally ended up in Seal Beach, California during World War II working at the ammunition depot. My father was in the Navy and they met at the bus stop. My father was a terribly jealous man and my mother mistook that for love. Jim, my father, was the first person who she thought really cared about her.
My father was born on December 5, 1925 in Dearborn, Michigan and was number twelve of thirteen children. My grandmother was a tiny woman who came from a well-to-do upstate New York family. She was an elocution teacher who had the great misfortune of marrying my grandfather who rapidly went through the family money and believed in keeping her barefoot and pregnant. My grandmother died from complications after the birth of the thirteenth child. My father was three years old at the time and went to live with some of his older sisters who had children his age. This was during the Great Depression and most of his time was spent with a sister that had a farm. Growing potatoes was hard work and many hands were needed in the fields.
I was part of the first wave of Baby Boomers. I almost wasn’t. My mother had been married twice before meeting my father but had never been able to get pregnant. Our family doctor gave her an injection made with mare’s urine and I always contended that is why I grew HORSE CRAZY. Between Seal Beach and the ammunition depot there was a place called the Hillman Ranch. A big barn sat on the top of the hill and it seemed to me there were hundreds of horses there. My face was always pressed against the window when we drove by and I wanted so much to pet the horses. When I was five I decided it was time to go see the horses. I took my three year old sister, Julia, by the hand and started the several mile walk. Of course my mom had not been told about this—she had told me to WATCH my sister and that is why I took her with me. Julia was three years old at the time and quite willing to go wherever I led her.
I knew the way to the Hillman Ranch because we had driven the route many times. The problem was it was on the other side of the Pacific Coast Highway but our Guardian Angels must have been helping us cross the road because I don’t remember it being scary. What I didn’t count on was the distance. We had gone several miles and I was so tired. Julia was even more tired than me and I was dragging her along and telling her we were almost to the horses. We were just at the corner of the pasture fence, I could SEE the horses, when a car pulled up with my mother in the passenger seat. She was furious with me. It seems the neighbor had driven by us and THOUGHT she recognized us. She then drove to my house and asked mother where I was. I was NOT in the back yard.
I got a spanking from my mom and she said IF I sat on the porch steps all day long and did not move she might not tell my father. I definitely did not want a spanking from my father because he used the belt. When my father came home my mom was still pretty upset and she told my father and gave me another spanking. Off came the belt and my father whipped me. Now, I was the one that was furious!! I felt my mother had lied to me. I had not moved a muscle all afternoon. I grabbed the belt and jerked it out of my father’s hand, swung it around and hit my mother with the buckle end. I was screaming at her that she’d lied to me—that she’d said she wouldn’t tell if I sat on the porch all day. Needless to say my righteous rebellion did not go over well and I received another whipping from my father and my mother. I do believe that is the only time I received 5 spankings in one day.
Spankings from my father were something to be avoided at all costs. Usually he would turn us over his knee and slap us with the flat of his hand. The bad thing was once he started he would get carried away and the spanking would become a beating. In the Chinese Zodiac I was born into the year of the Fire Dog. In the Native American Medicine Wheel I was born into the sign of the Bear. Put those two together and I was born to be a warrior. When I was five I came into my own power. I remember this event so clearly. I was getting a spanking from my father for something and it was going on too long. My mother came out of kitchen and she had been peeling potatoes. She had a knife in her hand and she said, “Jim, stop beating Laura right now or I will run this knife through you.” I felt grateful for my mother’s intervention. I fell on the floor when my father jumped up and rushed at my mom. I was right behind my father and when I entered the kitchen he had my mom against the wall and was trying to hit her in the head with a cast iron skillet. My mother wore glasses and was literally blind without them. When there was a fight the first thing my father would do is knock off her glasses.
I remember feeling that I needed to protect my mother. I also remember that the top of my head barely reached my father’s butt but that didn’t stop me. I wrapped my arms around his left leg and bit as hard as I could. He shook me off and I went back again. I was a regular little terrier and I wasn’t going to stop until he stopped trying to kill my mother. After that if my father hit my mom he had to deal with me too.
When I was six another traumatic interaction with my father happened. The day after school was out we loaded up the car and headed to Michigan to visit my Aunt Wave and her family on the farm. We stopped for the night at a small motel in Utah. It was late when we arrived but I saw a red horse grazing in the green field beside the cabin. The cabin had a bed and a couch. My sisters were already asleep and put on the couch for the night. I was going to share the bed with my parents. The cabin had a small kitchen and my mom was making supper with the door closed so the light wouldn’t keep me awake. My father and I were on the bed and he said, “Do you want to play house like Mama and Daddy play house?” I said yes because playing house meant tea parties to me. He got on top of me and tried to penetrate me but it hurt and I started crying. He put his hand over my mouth and my mom came out of the kitchen and asked why I was crying. My father said that I was just tired. He left me alone for another year and when I was seven he started using me sexually at least once a week. I must add here that my mother had no idea what was going on. She did not drive and my father would take her and my sisters to the store and leave them there while I went back home with him. My father was a great outdoorsman and since he had no sons I was his designated hunting buddy. This also gave us a lot of time together alone. This was the pattern of my home life until I was eleven.
I was eleven when my sisters and I went to summer Church Camp for a week. A missionary gave a talk to us about repentance. He said if you are doing something that you know is wrong and you ask Jesus to forgive you He will. BUT, if you ask for forgiveness and know you are not going to stop then you will not be forgiven because you are still committing the sin. The next time my father was driving me home while my mom was shopping I told him what happened at Church Camp. I told him I didn’t want to do that anymore because I knew it was wrong. He looked at me and very coldly said, “OK. But if you ever tell anyone I will kill you because my life wouldn’t be worth living if anyone knew.”
My father thought of us as his property. When I was going to school domestic violence was pretty much overlooked. The child abuse laws certainly were not enforced—if there were any. That doesn’t mean that people didn’t notice. Our school had a school nurse and a room where she saw students that needed help. When I was in first grade I remember rubbing my elbow against the walls rough stucco until it bled so I could go to the nurse’s station. I loved our nurse because she was so caring and gave me the attention I craved. She sensed that something wasn’t right in our family but she never questioned me or pried into family matters. When I was in 7th or 8th grade I had a near death experience. My father had trapped my mother in the kitchen and was beating her for something. I jumped on him from behind and drug him off. He turned on me, knocked me to the floor, jumped on me and started strangling me while beating my head against the cement floor. My mother was yelling, “Jim, you’re killing her.” I could see her trying to pull him off of me.
Suddenly I was out of my body and could feel or hear nothing that was happening in the kitchen. I felt like I was a balloon on a long string bobbing in the breeze. At sometime I must have wondered about the reality of life after death because the very first thought that came into my mind was, “I Am Thinking! That PROVES I AM and there IS life after death.” The bobbing rocking feeling made me think of being a baby in a cradle. Then I was standing on a slightly raised place and a huge screen was in front of me. I had a “past life review” that looked like a very rapid series of slides. None of them lasted long enough to really look at and being so young the show was very short. Then I was experiencing this wonderfully blissful feeling and I said “It is so pleasant here I don’t EVER want to go back.” The moment I said that I was back in my body and my father was still strangling me and bashing my head on the floor and my mother was still crying and trying to pull him off me.
The next day I had bruises around my neck in the shape of my father’s fingers. My father was so arrogant and sure of his “rights” that he allowed me to go to school like that. Needless to say the school nurse took note but kept it to herself. A few years later, when child abuse laws were passed, my father had beaten my youngest sister, Irene, with a belt and sent her to school covered in belt marks. The school nurse called the Sheriff’s Department and my sisters were picked up at school, taken to the Sheriff’s office and questioned. Irene was photographed. Irene and Julia were questioned and enough information obtained to bring immediate charges against my father. I was married by this time so I found out about it when my mother called me. I told my mother what had happened to me and volunteered to testify against my father in court. My mom wanted to know why I had never said anything and I said it was because she had no one to turn to for help and no job or money to support her self. My plan was to get a job, make enough money to pay for the divorce, tell her what happened and then have her come live with me. As it turned out my father confessed his guilt to child molestation in court and was sentenced to seven years in prison.
I had married between my junior and senior year of high school. The beatings were so frequent and so violent that I seriously doubted I would live another year at home. I married the first and only man I dated. When I met Gary he was working on Thoroughbred breeding farms getting the young horses ready to go to the track. Gary also worked as a stud manager at various farms and we lived on the farms. It was the happiest time of my life! I was surrounded by life and the cycle of seasons. Gary and I had been baptized Mormon before we married. We lived and worked on farms managed by Mormon people. It was a GOOD, Clean, Healthy place to live and BE part of the Circle of Life.
I LOVED school and was on the Honor Role every quarter of my high school years. Science was my favorite subject and I had planned on being a Marine Mammal Veterinarian because this was a fairly new field. The military was just beginning to use dolphins and seals a lot in underwater work. I wanted to take a summer class at Scripps Institute in San Diego, California. Instead I decided to escape my home situation and living on a horse farm was more attractive to me than many more years of school. When I told my science teacher I was going to get married he cried. He pleaded with me to stay in school-I know he thought I was throwing my life away. At the end of my junior year I had enough credits to graduate but I needed to take one class that was only offered to seniors. After marriage I went to school for half a day for half a year and graduated in January of 1964. In July of 1964 my first daughter, Katana, was born. In February of 1968 my second daughter, Kamela, was born and we were still living and working with horses. They say that “All Good Things Must Come To An End” and I am sad to say it did. As long as we lived on horse farms and we had common work and goals our marriage worked. Unfortunately, Gary had an “itchy foot” and couldn’t stay long in one place. When Kamela was less than a month old Gary decided to leave the farm we were living on. I loved the farm and the people there and wanted to stay. I actually got down on my knees and begged him not to leave. That was the beginning of the end-Kamela had nine different homes in the first nine months of her life. Sometimes we never unpacked the boxes before we were on the road again. We settled in Seattle, Washington in the fall of 1968. Gary had left horses and went to work as a district manager for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. His job was to recruit kids to deliver newspapers. We had bought a house but were having a tough time financially so I hired on with the Post Office. I planned on working only six months and then return to being a stay-at-home mom. I hated the rootless feeling of moving every so many months. I told Gary that I would move as often as he wanted but when Katana started school that was where we were staying. They say you tend to marry someone like your father and I am sorry to say that came to be truth. I always blamed my mom’s talking back to my father as the source of her misery. As a result, I had become a doormat in my marriage and Gary wiped his feet on me regularly. I began to look at my fellow co-workers and realized a lot of them were single women raising families with one pay check. I soon figured out that I did not have to put up with a bad home situation. Making the decision to divorce was one of the hardest things I ever did. Gary loved his children and spent most of his free time with them. I felt like a broodmare whose sole purpose was to take care of the house and have babies. Our sex life was strange and years later it all became clear as I realized that Gary was a pedophile.
Thirty five years later I proudly retired from the post office. It was a good, clean, honorable job that provided well for my family. I had absolutely no idea when I hired on the places this job would lead me to or the interesting people I would meet. Would I have become involved with UFO’s or Native American ways if I hadn’t worked at the post office? Who knows….
