Writing Reality

  We purge truth to comfort a white man. We prostrate ourselves for him to break our backs. Cancelling love, compassion and truth in one fell-swoop. Cherishing nothing, we have nothingness. Our loss is his gain. His gain is unearned. He knows not our sorrow, for his sorrow is more. His appointees state their near-whiteness. Their fake eyes and fake haired glares of filth. It is without soul that diminishes their care. A defunct and failed man rules with fake wealth. He buys them rich then brings them poor. Our D-class status arises from Confederate ashes. Ignorance is embraced by the willful ignorant. Gutless men who’ve existed for centuries remain in power. Its about fear, fear that we may take care of the land. Fear that we may save the people they refuse to understand. Fear of peace through expression betrayed. The comfortable white man has become restless. The feral king realizes his death will arrive. He rouses up the racists, so he will...

  Jesse Jackson has passed. I had no real premonition on such an event; however, the week prior to his passing I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I’d wondered how old he was as I was out for my daily run. I figured maybe 90 years old but was uncertain of his age. Funny enough there were so many things I remembered about him. I wondered why he was on my mind on my daily training runs, then as I’d gotten home from my run I forgot all about it, till I awoke the day his passing was announced. Immediately, my heart sunk; then sunk a little bit more when I’d read he was just 84 years old. I wondered where my timeline on his age was. I knew he and Andrew Young were friends and knew Martin Luther King fairly well. I also knew Andrew Young was older than Jesse Jackson. After Jesse Jackson’s passing, I wondered how his life and legacy would positively affect our world today.   That night I had a dream about him and Malcolm X. Yes, I’ve had some profound dreams in my lifetime. Some ha...

A few days ago, I watched the nearly ‘sure thing’ that the Olympic Gold medal for Men’s Figure Skating was either Japan’s Yuma or the USA’s Ilia. I saw the short programs of nearly all the men competing. I believe it was that program that I’d watched ‘live’. Yes, there were mistakes. I’d thought they’d finished a couple of days ago and that Ilia had won. I moved onto watching Luge, Curling, Slalom, Hockey, Short Track, Speed Skating, X-Country Ski, Biathlon, Half-pipe, Super-G, Skelton and a few other events.1 I’ve always been into the Winter Olympic Games since I could remember. Now that is nearing on 60 years. Lately, I’d been reading a lot more as well, finishing three books I’d started in mid-January, starting a fourth one and doing very little writing in the past few days. This was due to the fact our oldest was coming home for a visit and I had wanted to cater to her, along with completing certain house chores that I’d left undone due to the snow and ice accumulations on and arou...

  “Wait. You never told your husband?” She queried.   “No. Never.” I replied. “You never told your husband?” She repeated the question as her eyes grew bigger. “No. I figured it wasn’t worth it. Plus, you’re one of the first people I’ve told and only recently. I figure I’m good now.” I added. She stood there stunned in my dining room, as we’d been going off topic discussing my suggestions for her book format yesterday. Her, someone who’d met me in late 1999, before both of us had become parents, yet we were both married. I had become most successful in my business and she was building hers. Now, our daughters were the same ages within months of each other. We had similar experiences in our childhoods and as well in our parenting. And yes, Norm and I had a good marriage. Especially, as I’d taken notice over the decades in our over 36-year marriage that ended physically in his death, coming in on six years soon. You never know what a good marriage is until you hear oth...

  A few first things that I do every morning are stretches, yoga, meditation and five days per week I do some Qi Gong. All that aside from my usual self-care, household chores and prayers which are constant. To the point a priest in my office said to me, “You’re the most prayerful person I know.” I remarked, “You know what God says when I pray?” He wagged his head ‘no’. I continued, “Oh my Me! It’s her again.” We laughed. Last week I called one of my former military superiors, it was minus 37 degrees not including the windchill factor she’d remarked. She stated, “Jody, it was so cold as I was pumping gas and the wind picked up a little. I was wearing long johns, regular pants over them and snow pants over that and I felt the cold go right through me as I set the pump. I got into my car and waited as the gas pumped into my car.” I remarked, “Well, you were around metal, plastic and the ground was either cement or macadam in a shaded area, right?” She concurred. We talked about...

  I've been watching professional football since about end of 1966. Yeah me, I was once a 4-year-old white girl in suburbia from a blue-collar, lower middle class family with two parents and eventually being the middle of two siblings.  One parent was a white, idealistic, functional alcoholic, or so he'd lead you to believe that he was idealistic. The other a schizophrenic, bipolar- alcoholic-waiting in the wings, trying her best to run from evil, yet trashing the very thing she should protect, and fight for. Soon self-medication would catch up to her. And disabilities of denial would give him everlasting freedom and a delayed death, to enjoy money we didn't see. The lies a white man tells himself to protect anyone knowing what is deep inside their soul. This all brings me to the reality of how I had become a patriot or maybe I’m not. Yeah, that thing, ‘a patriot’. The thing that haunts some of us Americans in our idealistic sober minds no matter what. Trust me, most of...