Writing Reality

I really never expect…   Anyone to help me. Funny, enough. I’ve never thought anyone would ever just volunteer. That is without an agenda, usually costing me money or something. Which I may not have. I look back now, and I know where that comes from.   It comes from the fact that when I needed help the most as a child, it didn’t come in human form.   It either didn’t appear or I learned how to. Or a miracle occurred where somehow, I didn’t have to depend on anyone, that was human. Like the situation resolved or it became less important. So now here many decades after childhood; I’ve reminded myself throughout my life that no one will just ‘help’ you. Out of the goodness of their heart. I don’t ever expect it. I don’t ever expect anyone to rescue me. I stand alone when my spouse is down. I know all of everything that is presented and occurs in my life, is my responsibility. And that is because, it has always been that way for me. It is that simple.   There is no blame. Becaus

The Truth Serum Recent events, which we may not appreciate. I can say will become our ever more “Truth Serum” about who we think we know.   As well, as who we think we are. I know this to be true. Let me tell you a little story. Between the years 2002 and 2006, I would prepare and run this race across the Mohave Desert in mid-July.   The reason why, is because it was science.   Stay with me. The temps ranged between one hundred eighteen to one hundred thirty-four degrees (about that) usually between ten in the morning till about sundown or so.   At midnight, it could still be over one hundred degrees. You had to run on the shoulders of the roadway/highway (It was mostly sixty MPH. Fact check me if you’d like.)   The macadam was usually for most of the days at that time of year one hundred fifty to two hundred degrees. If you wore those gel running shoes, or those ‘Air’ shoes they may pop, taking away their gel or air benefits. So, I wore a torsion format, which I’d prefe

What this day means to me… It was this time twelve years ago, I had received a call telling me that a man who was quite dangerous was getting out of prison serving only half the time he was sentenced to. I’m certain it was not for good behavior. I called the prosecutor’s office and demanded to speak with the prosecutor. His receptionist felt I was safe.   Then I told her, “Ma’am. Not true. I am not safe. Try putting my name in your search bar on the little desktop computer you have in front of you. Can you do that now?” She replied, “Yes. Okay.” There was a gasp. I asked, “So, now you know who I am. You know where I live. Or it would be easy to find me. Or my place of work. Am I correct, Ma’am?” She remarked, “Oh.” I added, “So, you see what I’m aiming at then?” She replied, “Oh yeah.” I responded, “Good, have him call me. Here are the numbers he can reach me at.”   The prosecutor called me at home about a day later. I locked myself in our bathroom, told my husband to ke

Seed of Greed And there they stand, Belonging to one klan, Never caring about the others. They plant the seed, It’s all about their greed, Not about the life of another. To 'stop' I say, They’d better make way, Eternal tears they’ll cry on mother. Those unruly old men, Need to be stricken with the bends, For the masses not to be smothered. ---Jody-Lynn Reicher https://www.amazon.com/Jody-Lynn-Reicher/e/B00R3VUZ18/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_10?qid=1418802234&sr=1-10

Caged Decried He said you’ll just have to go without, it’s just the way it is. They didn’t hear their cries and pleas, to have a tithe of his. He said we’ll have to take your babies,   your fleeing is not what I want. They didn’t understand the mother’s plight, his money he did flaunt. Those territories are our ‘s’ holes, his lack of compassion did show. They gave the minion millionaires the break, all our money he did blow. They sat on stack of near 400 bills, as they went out and dined. The stock market rose going through throes, too busy pouring wine. They unabashedly believed they were the tougher, told the poor and middle to suck it up. Yet a heel spur crows, a father’s woes, honorable discharged days of thirty-seven tup. Yet their past shows that when it hit the dust, they ran to money of father. A tragedy upon us in form of virus, they all now too busy to bother. They unto others who were colored brothers, thro

Chicklets Many, many years ago, my Mom would let us buy some candy here and there. But when we only had a nickel my Mom would suggest either that rolled up red licorice by Broadway or Chiclets. You know the little square gum pieces? It was so, my brother and I could share the candy. Those were the days when my Mom was fortunate enough to have a used car for a month or so, and she’d pull up to the gas pump and hold out a dollar or two fifty cent pieces and say to the attendant, “I’d like a dollar’s worth of gas, please. These flashes of my childhood came to me as I ran today in the early afternoon I wondered which direction to run. I wondered how much energy I had. I couldn’t gage it. I hadn’t able to gage my energy now for about the past few years. Pure exhaustion and pushing through it for the better part of over twenty-eight years has taken its toll.   As I’ve done everything I could to beat a syndrome I’d been diagnosed with twenty-six years ago. For the first four pl

The Inside Out If two-thirds of Americans are over-weight; and ten percent of our gross product is made up of health-care. Yet, no one listens to a doctor, nutritionist or the like on how one would need to refrain from eating processed foods, reduce sugars, increase their plant-based foods in their daily consumptions, going for a daily stroll, as well having the proper daily water intake. If we actually paid attention. And we took responsibility for how we individually treat the inside of our bodies. That ten percent in expenses for health-care would probably go down. We would have more funds to help ourselves in other areas of life. Imagine having more funds for your child’s clothing, new birthday gift, new pair of walking shoes, that yoga lesson you always wanted to take. Perhaps, taking that online class or getting that degree you’ve always wanted, but had to work too long to save for it. It’s never too late. I’ve had clients in their eighties change their diets. Th

I would have done it differently… ---Jody-Lynn Reicher I would have done it differently, If my life had, had her way. When the abuse of one of other, Did come my mother’s way. I would have done it differently, Before another hit my mother. It would have caused much grief, Yet, more girls and women would have relief. I would have done it differently, Maiming with purpose secretly. The threats some men gave out, We let them have the clout. I would have done it differently, Maiming and killing would be the way. We turned the other cheek, Hoping our justice so to reap. I would have done it differently, To not watch my mother die. The anger men did incite in me, I have no tears to cry.

                                               Not Happy in My Work...I Guess In the animated, Christmas movie, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, one of the elves named Hermey no longer wants to make toys. Hermey has found a new passion.   He has begun studying dentistry. The head elf his boss, questions him.   He announces to the other elves working, “Hermey doesn’t want to make toys!” All the elves present repeat the line to each other in sequence, as they wonder why Hermey doesn’t like to make toys.   The query from his boss and the other elves, is inspired as they think all elves, especially Santa’s elves are born just to make toys, and do chores referring to Santa Claus and Christmas celebrations. However, it’s not what they think. It is not that Hermey despises making toys for children.   Nor is it that he despises being one of Santa’s elves. Neither is it that he doesn’t love Christmas.   It is because he has found a book of interest to him on dentistry. Hermey

Angel On My Shoulder As I lay in bed last night at three in the morning last night. My mornings for the past number of months due to illness of a loved one. I wake up multiple times. Sometimes even if there is no noise of pain, or running water to soothe the pains within the body of the pained family member. I was always that heavy sleeper. As my husband had said back in June of 1989 during Laconia, New Hampshire’s Motorcycle week, “You can sleep through a bomb going off. You were dead to the world. You didn’t hear that M-80 last night, did you?” I answered, “Well, you were freaking out. I wouldn’t of woke up. You woke me up. You like, were leaping out of the bed.” One night in the late fall of 1982, I was holding my M16A1, seated in a cattle car. A bunch of Marines all lined up seated in the cattle car practically in the same seated position. It was as they drove us to McGuire Air Force base. The ride was a bumpy one in the cattle car. I was over-tired though. So, I

God Dressed Me I'm someone that really wants to look the part, whether its casual, the corporate look, etc... The problem is, when you've never known how to dress just the correct way for certain events, because you’ve never known anyone having to contend with this particular event, or situation. In this particular fashion. I can say it put me in a pickle. In March and April of 1993. I was in such the pickle. And it mattered. Oh, it truly mattered. It was practically a matter of life and death. Not necessarily mine, but a possible future victims’. I was always a conservative dresser. So, that helped. I'm certain of that. However, nothing really prepares you for this level of dressing for what I call a deadly performance. Yes, I know it mattered that much. I had to dress for the audience. I knew to dress to show the world that not only did I mean business. Yet, also I could not be fooled, be made a fool of, nor manipulated.   Nor would I cry in public.

Any Given Saturday I played football with my brother and his friends from age four thru age fourteen.   My brother, Don and I were unbeatable on the same team.   Don was quite often Ken “The Snake” Stabler or Fred Belitnikoff of the Oakland Raiders.   I was either Larry Czsonka or Mercury Morris of the Miami Dolphins.   I usually wanted to be Mercury or Larry. But had to play defender (bodyguard to Don), because he was usually, “The Snake”.   Don was two years my senior, so he was kind of the boss of me.   The way Don wanted to play the game, was just the way you did it.   Me, I didn’t care.   I just wanted to play.   Saturdays before we’d head out the door Don would be carrying the football.   Mom would look at us and say, “Young lady, now you know your Dad doesn’t approve of girls playing football.”   I would respond nodding my head, “Yes Mom.”    She continued, “So be careful and...”   She gave me that look, “And don’t let anything happen.”   I knew what she meant

"…As the blood and sweat meld together you never are aware of anything else but the fight.   I was too busy to notice I was even bleeding, and of course that was not the first time. Neither would it be the last time that I didn’t know I was bleeding, let alone damaged…"---Jody-Lynn Reicher https://www.amazon.com/Jody-Lynn-Reicher/e/B00R3VUZ18/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_10?qid=1418802234&sr=1-10

He Prayeth Best… Today, I didn’t think I could get out for a run. Yet, I knew it was what I should do. This afternoon, I had just finished a light training run. Feeling worn from writing, work, caregiving, and such. Never mind all the other possible stressors that the rest of the people in the world may have to contend with on this particular date. Before, during and after the run my soul operates like so: Praying. Acknowledging where I am, right here, right now. And much, much more. Quite often I can honestly say, that I’ve felt most people are just not grounded. That, I contemplate as well and often. During my running, quite often I allow all my cynicism to come to the surface. I revel in it, letting it loose. Then I bash it. Then I forgive myself for it. This pattern happens every day. It is similar to thanking God when I first wake up, for whatever there maybe to be grateful for. Every morning, stretching before my feet hit the floor, brushing my teeth, washing my fa

The Speaker I’m terrible at talking to people. Well, actually no. That wouldn’t be truthful. I just hate being around people. Well, not exactly. It’s that well, sitting or standing in a room with more than one person for me is a challenge. Being in a space with two people is a scary proposition for me. I’m a bit of a hermit. Not totally. It’s hard to explain. But I’ll try.     Standing still behind a podium is just not my style. I’ve been forced to do that podium speaking thing a number of times in my life. Speaking behind a podium for me… Well… It’s kind of sort of a disaster. However, if you’ll bear with me, give me a microphone, and keep your distance. Not that I’m a germaphobe. But I’m in the closet about it. It? Oh, my germaphobia. The distance, the microphone. Space? Yes, I need space. But, yet I have been known to walk into an audience when permitted during a speech and cajole the people in the audience. How did I get into becoming a speaker? I did take some cou