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Showing posts from February, 2022



A Broader Perspective

Being born during the Cold War, The Cuban Missile Crisis, the Vietnam War Then 911 occurring, and wars that ensued.  The wars countries fought, created, defended, and lived through. I wonder when is it enough? There are many areas misunderstood about such conflicts, murderous events, and continued tribalistic hatred, and indifference as well as greed that thwarts peace. I do know what anger lies inside each of us. Yet, some more than others.  I understand basic anger.  And I understand being enraged. The vile rage that only some have. And I understand an insurmountable level of rage few have. That demon rage deep inside the few of us. But there is a point of logic, where we know not to spread it. It's not always easy to shut it down. Yet, it is mostly the prudent thing to know how to do. To shut it down, perhaps keeping it to ourselves only to the point where it is ordered as absolutely necessary to use it. Many years ago, my first self-defense and fight coach commented to me a

The Children Are Ours...

While visiting our oldest in Los Angeles, and showing our youngest Colleges in California. I witnessed a crime nearly completed.  There's not ever been a time when our daughters saw me do what I did today for someone else's daughter.  But you see as I told them, "All the children are mine." Both my daughters are adopted.  And just because I didn't give birth to you. Or I didn't raise you, doesn't mean I don't care about you. Its converse, I care. Because all the children in my view are my responsibility. At that time I told them this,, as I had just previously been at a usually busy intersection of downtown Los Angeles,  then it happened. Right infront of me/us. I was at a red light, it was 9:45 in the morning. The three of us were headed off to see a college for our youngest.  My oldest already attending college nearby sat in the back seat.  She knows the dangers of cities, and this one in particular. She does get it.  But you never 'get it'

Survival Sept. 1970

  Two minute read: "Power In the Shadows":. ... Oh the Irony....😏 In late September 1970 I survived a house fire. It was before my eighth birthday. Initially, my brother who was age nine, my father and my mother forgot about me. I had been in a deep sleep from two injuries and an allergic reaction I'd had from a medicine for one of the injuries. I was dead to the world for four hours. I woke up stairs to smoked filled rooms I was groggy from the drug I was given after school As I got to the top of the thirteen stairs that lead to our kitchen that was on fire, I heard a commotion. Standing at the top of the staircase I realized as I had trouble breathing and I couldn't see a thing. It was what seemed a white smokey film. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Moooom!!!!!" I took three steps down unable to see, then a hand pulled me onto my butt and dragged me down to the bottom of the stairs . I knew to stay on the ground. My Mom let me go, I crawled

What It Takes...

  A two minute read... (written 2018)                              What it Takes... Written in 2018... Early this morning, before our oldest left for work she overheard my husband and I speaking. It was about a record I still hold and another one I didn’t realize I set that same day nearly thirteen years ago. She wanted to know what it took to set such records in running. I didn’t go into the injuries I’d incurred. Neither the demons one fights, whilst in the process of attempting to set records. Yet, I went into the amount of time and money that it took. The sacrifices. The commitments, to EVERYTHING. Time. The time on your feet.  The time you sacrifice not going out to a movie, nor to eat out. The time you don’t have to sacrifice.  All that time while working full time.  Then add in raising children, as well as wanting to be there for most of your children’s ballet, karate and other organized activities. Then the time you should and do spend taking the children to playdates, the

Barbed Wire, Bubble Wrap

Barbed Wire,  BubbleWrap   "Just an old fashioned love song..." Yes, another song... playing on the radio. As I try to make sense of much in life. This thought brings me to the last few nights watching the Olympics. As I watched US Olympian Downhill Skier Shiffrin DNF two times.  I knew it had nothing to do with age or regular athletic fatigue.  No, I don't know Shiffrin at all. However, I understand loss. And I felt gut-wrenched for her and her mother's loss. I could relate. If the reader here were to research the word 'grief', although there are varying types of grief. The one I'm addressing here is grief from deep personal loss. Personal loss grief, such as losing a parent at a young age or a spouse, putting it simple it is physically devastating. Yes, emotionally too. But here I"m adressing the physiology of grief from personal loss. This is not to exclude the importance of other personal losses. Yet, these two particular losses are often not

The Compassion of Nature

The caring and love we can learn from watching nature. As I have taken time to observe nature throughout my life. Recently, I've witnessed something I'd not ever thought would be possible in the wild. Although I've witnessed this caring and compassion among my domestic animals. Over the past two months our deer herd has grown to about fourteen or so. The herd lives primarily in my 'neck of the woods'. Yet, they travel upto and at least eight miles round trip per day through local towns around me. I know this to be so.  The way I now know this, is of their markings, their individual gaits and their personalities which I've become familiar with. I've watched the herd shrink and grow over the last bunch of years. Yet, because of the pandemic, loss of life, loss of a regular work schedule and reduced fight training, running mostly locally. I've been remaining mostly local for over two years now. What I've witnessed in the past two months were two bu

Our Holiday Heart Warmer Has Passed

Our Holiday Heart Warmer As my youngest daughter and I arrived home from early dismissal due to teachers staff development meeting today; she saw on Instagram someone we knew had passed. "Mom! The guy who played the flute died." I was crushed.  But I knew that he was elder at this point. Yet, still felt the loss, funny enough it was as if he were family to me. Phil, the flute player (a.k.a Santa Claus), who performed mostly in downtown Ridgewood, just miles from our home had died. I searched to see if he was alone when he passed or was someone there to comfort him.  After not finding anything further on him. I then searched for a picture he and I took together years before. It had popped up in my old photos just about three days ago. I thought how odd. The photo was during Christmas time.  I had never known his name till that time years ago, when he and I posed to convince my daughters that I was friends with Santa Claus. We both smiled, my arm around him. I was guggling

Alien At Large

  Alien At Large Have you ever thought of yourself as an ‘Alien At Large’? I’m not suggesting a homo sapien in a foreign country that’s a fugitive. No. I’m speaking metaphorically. It’s that time when you wonder either ‘why is everybody freaking out’? Perhaps it appears all the time?   There’s never a rest? There’s nothing mundane? It’s like the world needs drama. Personally, I think we create it unnecessarily. We create it in our lives. Partially by not keeping to our own business, with holding back certain expression. I’m not saying we need to be stoic.   That’s not healthy all the time. I’m saying how I observed things before social media. However, I’m not going to blame social media and this incredible, wonderful access to seemingly everyone in the world. The world now, seems to be a place where we are all connected.   Even to the most obscure simplistic person as myself. Not as others we are in contact with, who may have a high level of notoriety. The people that we were ill

Go in the Wrong Direction...

  Go in the Wrong Direction… Well, that’s if you are a writer. As I listen to lectures by directors and writers like Martin Scorcese, James Patterson and Malcom Gladwell. Scorcese, encourages good research. Yet, he explains how doing things in a film with too much accuracy can get you bogged down. Bogged down to the point that you lose the essence of the story you’re trying to tell. Patterson explains, “Men like accuracy… So, if you’re going to talk about guns, cars, etc… It’d better be accurate. Or you’ll lose that audience.” Gladwell talking about researching with Google.   It’s good, but it’s a problem because “you’re going to usually get the most popular answers or reads.”   And that may take you away from your story. Basically, it can take away from your personal creativity in the writing and important ideas you want to express. Listening to directors, writers, producers, actors, taking classes on film. I realize creating a sellable item is not only difficult. But, it’s me. I’