Writing Reality

 How I Really Feel... Gossip versus Compassion: In 1977 upon the beginning of my 2nd year of Cross-Country running and 2nd year in high school.  There were about seven of us girls running the Saturday before Labor Day on a training run through the field areas of our high school.  I kept quiet, for the most part, listening to the girls giggle about some odd thing. They were gossipping. Basically,  I despise gossip, always have.  So, when I heard what I felt was tragic news of a former female competitor from another school...that her hopes of going to a high-end university on a scholarship were suddenly dashed, I inquired. I asked,  upon finding out that the former competitor of ours had gotten pregnant over the summer, "How...?" Of course they laughed and made fun of me. Which I handled well externally, tortured internally by their discompassionate response. However, what I thought was...I feared that maybe she was raped... Or somehow fell into a bad place.   I didn't know

  Leaving doors unlocked Where children are secured  Unbrave men armed Not one runs in Firestorm heard Yet no urgency occurs Hours away as parents mourn Money over children It doesn't matter  Deceive the underserved  White men pandered to Mental illness so they claim White men committing the most Having most access to help Denying a problem  Only wanting to keep their ARs Lassoing other young men Helping commit atrocities  The rich white want atrocities To fulfill their falsehoods  To suppress change Oppression from Oligarchs  Skirt tragedies They land at our doorsteps  ---Jody-Lynn Reicher 

Children are brave Where are the men? Those so armed  Waited for carnage  To rush in White men failed To protect once again Loaded to the gills No conscience  It's not kin Failed security  Was the begin They'd heard a call A criminal they saw Assumed he was pinned Men with guns  Didn't stop The death that ensued Trigger finger stuck Evil reigned a win ---Jody-Lynn Reicher 

    “Kids are just not running as fast they used.” I heard a coach say over the past six weeks of recent spring track and field competitions. When I attend my youngest’s track and field meets, I pay attention to just about everything. I talk to parents from other teams, who I’ve never met before. I converse with coaches from other teams or officials, usually standing by awaiting some announcement.   Sometimes kids from other teams will comment about something that seems awry. If I’m in earshot, I will converse with them about whatever it is that was their wonderment on the field or on the track. And in that first line of this piece, that coach is correct. I’m seeing it only from a Bergen County, New Jersey standpoint. We are way down across the county in high school track and field performances, in the past decade or more. Why? I could guess. One is that the competition in academics could interfere in the latter years of high school. Yet, that is a must to survive in the ‘real world’

Last night I finally received the call I've been waiting... for... not quite a decade... but well... as she put it, "Jody, we can't go a decade again before we call each other." Then we laughed.   I remarked, "For sure. Let me see. You were going on a long mission overseas..." She responded, "That's was 2012.... Jody that's a decade." I replied, "So it is." As the first twenty minutes of catch up passed. I had plenty of fried chicken and vegetables that I'd made the night before for my youngest and I to warm up. I only had to prep and cook the rice for our dinner.  Our youngest was studying. All remained quiet and our three pets which make very little noise, unless they feel threatened. Such as sensing someone or something is awry, or in our backyard. They'll thump... so loudly you'll think a huge object fell inside our home. Rattling you out of bed at 2am. No matter how exhausted you may be. Which then can set off

Right now with that title, I've either freaked you out. Gotten you to suddenly hold me accountable. Or perhaps, I've intrigued you. My intention is to intrigue you. Then whatever happens after that is not up to me, but up to your soul. Why... Pray tell would I leave that up to your soul? Free-will. If I were God. I'll explain. According to other people's plans, I was supposed to be a devout Catholic or this Bible-banging Christian. I was to get everyone to repent.  However, what happened at a young age was... I was given a Bible. It had pictures in it. It had only the New Testament in it... Which I read early on... by the way according to the New Testament is blasphemy to not attach the Old Testament. As well, it is blasphemous to disregard the Old Testament. Okay follow me... I'm going somewhere.  So, here I was near age eight. Mom, barely had access to a vehicle with any regularity. The closest Catholic church in my first ten plus years was at least two mile

Today would have been, Our 38th Wedding anniversary... In the Beginning... We met at about 11:30pm Tuesday August 11th 1981 in the United Parcel Service (UPS) Yard, Saddle Brook, NJ at the unloading docks. I took care of the outside docks on the midnight shift. I made sure the trailers were lifted just enough so the packages to get unloaded.  My husband told me three years later that the trailers weren't the only things that were rising because of me. My response, “Yeah, right.” I had twenty docks to handle on the midnight shift. I worked this job at UPS during my off-duty time. I saw this guy in charge of four of the unloading docks, he was a manager. I really wasn't looking for a guy or any relationship. I already had my mind set what I was to do with my life. Yet, I thought...'He seems handsome. He's clean shaven. He looks intelligent, looks hard-working, and he dresses well for the job. Looks like a guy with a real brain. Yep, that's a turn on. Ahhh. But

  Still Those Wonderful… When you meet your soulmate, you share thoughts of a euphoric future. Now, you may not be in total agreement as to where your and their future are to be. However, if you truly are in love, it’ll all work out. That is just how life goes in love.   Norman and my first dream was: “…we’re going to work, live, and raise our children up north. They’ll be great skiers and hikers.” Vermont was preferred, New Hampshire our second choice.    We both enjoyed the wilderness. Although me more than him. Norm was more of the social otter type. Me, the lone wolf that could join a pack. Yet, likes to hunt alone most the time.    I like the ground, the dirt. Norm, he liked shaking hands with the blue fish and the tuna. He loved ‘exploring’ on many levels and was fascinated by forests.   We had nicknames for each other. His fraternity brothers and college friends would ask, “How did the Hippie marry the Marine?” Some nicknames, many times were created after the first decade of ou

As I sit here and contemplate how others in my life attempted to stop my progression because of my gender. In every way possible, since I can remember as a small child and being female.  As I think back ... Right now my Dad would be thinking I'm a soft parent. He would put me down, for helping my oldest financially, in her college education. Especially how I handled her last year of high school. As I allowed her to not make her bed. I accepted her getting her hair, lashes, and nails done. And even helped her, here and there financially. As well, setting up the hair appointments as she was just eighteen. He wouldn't accept her excuse of working three jobs, working over fifty hours a week in the summer. Nor working thirty to forty hours a week during her senior year of high school. As well, my feeding her, taking care of her dirty laundry, staying up for her, neither holding dinner up for her...  My Mother who didn't stand in my way, as she knew I would soon be a US Marine at

  Saturday, as I stood at track meet next to another 'Shot Put Mom'. Awaiting her son to throw. Keeping our volume low. I remarked, "You know what my main three pet peeves are?" She angled her head towards me. I nodded. "Um..." She responded, "You forgot your pet peeves?" We giggled. And then I replied, "Good God I have so many. It's not three." We cynically scoffed in synchronization. Whereas tailgating raced through my mind. People who don't use their blinkers. I slowly arrived at, "People who roll through stop signs. People not picking up after their dogs. And you don't cross a track while an event is being run. But what's got me now, are the loud talkers when a guy's going to throw. Like seriously, you have no respect? Definitely cigarette smoking." I then mind my volume, "Oh, I have so many."   A guy is getting to throw... a minute later... my mind relaxes in between videoing throws, timi

The Dissection of an Interlude So, I am staying.   And you have left. Not by choice. As philosophical as I am. As intrigued as I have been by the unknown.   And as much as I’ve met up with the unknown. There are still no answers as to when? Or what this is. I am not disappointed. I know what that is. I’ve been there before. Am I allowed to ask how long? How long do I feel odd? Well, it is usually not unusual for me to feel out of place.   That’s the story of my life.   Not belonging anywhere. Or when I do belong it’s in some obscure place, most others won’t go. Like a cage, a ring, running across a dessert in all its hotness of summer. Death is in the air. Yet I witness only the beauty. Reluctantly at first you were. Only to end up wanting to run the ‘show’. I didn’t laugh to anyone but myself... And well, to God too. Keep in mind He made the giraffe. My bad humor, “Why the long neck?” You put up with.   Yet, my impersonations and made-up characters, voices and such had you howli

Okay everybody calm down. You're not a genius if you can read a sentence upside down, in print. I have a story...  When working in defense contracting many moons ago. My boss, Glenn and I had a funny line. "We'll have to kill you if we tell you that." Although, certainly not legal and not desired by ehhh hmmm one of us ... Eye roll... Pray tell, of course not everyone thought is was funny. But after the person would leave the vicinity, we would smile like the cat that swallowed the canary and sometimes giggle. At some point and time, our director, Chris emphatically declared "... no one can read your handwriting Glenn." Me realizing they were possibly discussing sensitive material, I may have not been cleared for. I halted my motion. Chris hearing my somewhat soft steps on the carpet outside Glenn's office said, "Can Jody read your handwriting?"  Glenn now truly in wonderment, "Um. Huh." Chris answered his own query, "I guarant