I received a hand-written letter today on lined notebook paper. There was no return address and the signature might be Fran, Dan, or Nan.

It has a title: The Real Harriet – It is a turgid tirade and refers to things known only to me and Don. So obviously he filled this friend’s head with nonsense, and then encouraged her to write me, or after listening to him, she decided to write on her own.

The receipt of this letter has clarified my feelings and removed whatever ambivalence I felt about Don. I now give myself permission, without remorse, to write him out of my life.

He is obviously out of control and, I dare say, hopes to intimidate me by piling on whatever invective he can through others, so that I will get the impression that there are hordes out there who think ill of me as well.

What was most offensive about this letter was how it characterized my attitude toward my sister as mean and spiteful and disrespectful and it castigates me for suggesting she could not have written a 2008 letter that totally dissed me (just before Obama’s election) because of memory loss. (Don dictated that one, no doubt at all, and my sis went along with it because he was her Svengali. Later, when I asked her about it, she couldn't remember doing it.)

This is all Don’s doing, of course. It is his pathetic attempt to maintain some kind of influence and control over my behavior. He is losing me as a someone he thought he could control -- it never happened, but he was always after it. He knows he has no hold over me now and it is making him frantic. Tula is gone and she was the only reason I absorbed his insanity.

I had thought, before all this, that I would write a comforting letter to tell him I was sorry we were at odds, that I wouldn’t be pursuing a relationship because I knew he didn’t want one, but wanted to wish him well. I didn’t do this, and now I won’t.

I won’t question him about this letter either. He can generate more letters, and there may be more (I can’t tell how far he is willing to go) but you can’t have a fight when there is only one of you and I won’t be there.

What is hilarious is that this woman accuses me of hiding behind a bush -- she made some connection to Treyvon jumping out at Zimmerman. It was a real reach. Good grief, I don't hide my political opinions -- they appear regularly in the News-Press Letters column with my full name and location. And this from a writer who does not identify herself nor provide a return address.

I am wondering if I will hear more from the whackos after my next opinion (on elitism and social programs) that will appear soon. It isn’t time-sensitive like the Zimmerman piece, so they might not print it right away. I sent them better photos. My contact found fault with the quality of the lighting on the indoor photos and wanted me to have some taken outside. I can’t tolerate sunlight without sunglasses – so I waited till the obligatory daily thunderstorm passed and took the photos around 5 p.m. I hope these will do. Even so I had trouble not squinting into the camera.

I’m done justifying myself to people who are full of hate and intolerance. Too bad. He was family once. I’m going to leave him slowly twisting in the wind. No response. Nada, zilch, zip, tipota.