OLD NEWS   There was the normal morning residue waiting for her when she came into the kitchen that day. Milk drops on the counter top, a couple of cereal bowls stacked in the sink, the newspaper pulled apart, sports section missing. Rose unplugged the coffee pot and made herself a cup of tea.  She would start her morning like all others, writing in her journal. As she gathered the newspaper from her spot at the table, a headline caught her eye ... Clinton Pardons Patty Hearst. Rose returned the paper to her spot.  She wanted to read that story. Patty Hearst news interested her; it always had.   It was 26 years ago when Rose began clipping newspaper articles about Patty Hearst ... Newspaper Heiress Kidnapped. Patty was 19 at that time, February 4, 1974. Rose had been 23. Rose couldn't understand how it could have happened to the heiress. Didn't she have body guards? Wasn't she protected? "She didn't see it coming" Rose said out loud, and she opened her journal. I didn't see it coming, Rose wrote. I just assumed when I married I would live happily ever after. I didn't see it coming, the alienation from my family, friends, my beliefs. I was not kidnapped, I entered into the commitment willingly, she thought. And that's what the jury said about Patty Hearst when they convicted her of bank robbery. She joined her kidnappers willingly. She converted.   Rose still did not agree with the jury's verdict. Someone like Patty Hearst wouldn't just join up with the likes of the Symbionese Liberation Army. "Patty was like me" Rose whispered. We were young and confused in those days, thoughts of liberation were all around us in those times ... women's liberation, free love, hell no, we won't go. We had no freedom, Patty and I. She was brainwashed and I was married to a wife beater; we were both victims. We were under physical duress. We were victims. Rose could still feel the anger. Rose took a break and looked around the room. There were no pictures hanging, no remembrances of the past. She had heard that Patty Hearst's parents had divorced after it was over, about the same time Rose's mother had died. For every thing, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn ... The old tune comforted her as she softly sang the words.   The newspaper again caught her attention.  The jury ruled, she must pay for her crime. She could have escaped unharmed but she chose to stay. Rose felt the anger return; her tea had gone cold. Why must the victim take the blame? She was no longer Patty. Patty was suppressed, under duress. They took her away and replaced her with Tania. There was no escape; Rose knew that one. You are rescued. It can come in the form of police and body guards, or it can come from deep inside of you, that last ounce of will.   She never forgot. Rose had years worth of journals, the facts, the feelings, the dreams. These words were her pictures. "You deal with it," Rose said. Her voice was soft but unwavering. "We have dealt with it, Patty and me," Rose continued. And now her voice became firm. "We will not accept their guilt, their convictions. We have nothing to confess, we did not assault. And we have paid with our scars, money, and lost dreams."   Rose got up from her spot and took her tea cup to the sink to join the cereal bowls and the residue. It wasn't enough to fret about, still manageable.   The heiress was granted a presidential pardon. The article finished with words spoken for Patty, not by Patty. "The pardon is an act of ultimate understanding. Patty Hearst is most grateful."   Rose finished that morning's journal entry. I am grateful too, she wrote ... for that last ounce of will. -Cathy Hanlon 1/01