Writing Reality

The Night That the Lights Went Out in Cleveland… Some may remember the night that the lights went out in Cleveland—that and the entire Northeastern United States and Southeastern Canada too. If not, I’ll remind you. It was late afternoon on Thursday, August 14 th , 2003. Well, for us in China it was August 15 th , 2003, a Friday morning—thirteen hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time. It was before breakfast and our flight to the island where the U.S. Consulate was. The whole trip was a bit of a bumpy ride from beginning to end. Scrutinized here and there with a smattering of kindness and curiosity from others. It began with rifles held as we landed in communist China—proper. Coming down off the metal steps of the prop plane. I whispered, “Don’t pull out your cameras.” Disregarding my whisper—Don pulled out his camera— he was reprimanded in Chinese. I was surprised they didn’t confiscate his camera as I heard rifles shift. My mind set off alarm bells. Yet I remained mildly relaxed

Old Ignorance Dies Hard... I wondered if the Russian people were awake. It’s not that I thought they were ignorant—it’s that I could not wrap my mind around people not rebelling against the indiscriminate acts and long-overdue overhaul that they needed in their governance. I figured—maybe they had it better than I’d thought. I write corrected, however. But now having seen authoritarianism in full-blown capacity—and in real time. Authoritarianism is the stifling of free-will in action and thought. Ergo, Russia’s Putin. Ergo, those that preach within these United States that we need to think and be only one way as individuals. The only reason why any government would like to control thoughts among its citizens—it’s about distrust. Any religion, like any governance that demands control of minds is an insecure one. That thinking is godless indeed. In speaking with a friend last night, I remarked. “Take no offense on what I’m about to say—but this whole DeSantis governance is against

  It’s Only the Store… A little over a couple years ago, as I witnessed an illness overtaking my husband. I’d wondered what his thoughts were in those quiet moments when I wasn’t in the same room as he. Recently, I considered it was too overwhelming to put into a paragraph, or pages. It was constant lengthy thoughts. Self-talk. Perhaps prayer of some sort. Or meditation, allowing thoughts to flow in, out and about. Thoughts that many of us most likely don’t regularly address daily, much less monthly. Perhaps not even annually. Thoughts I have had most of my adult life. Some I’ve had all the life of mine I could remember—and daily.   My mother wondered who I was—she’d asked what was on my mind. So many times, she got it wrong. Even seeing my diary at ages eleven and twelve, she was perplexed. However, it was not her fault. With my husband, I went in the opposite direction. I didn’t ask. I just observed. For one it was personal. Two, dying is too intense to express all that fills

  No, You Wouldn’t About twenty-five years ago, I met this nurse. She’d heard about me from another nurse. As I’d gotten to know Kay (I’ll call her by a fictitious name. As to not violate HIPPA). I found her to be incredibly insightful. Over time, she referred quite a number of potential clients to me. As I worked on Kay–– we’d converse in my office––I felt that she would make a great medical doctor. I sort of wondered why she hadn’t taken that step. She like many nurses I’d met, I felt were exceptional in their intelligence and caring. Many nurses I met through my business, were most grounded. More grounded than I’d seen in many medical doctors. These nurses were also open-minded. Their view of the world was patient and expanded. I considered Kay however, to be at the top of the heap. Kay would question in detail––how I came up my scientific ideas and my conclusions. (Such as, how I once made my own orthotics; that actually worked for me.) And that type of thinking, I found wa

  I could feel jaded. I'm allowed to feel jaded. For those people who didn't have enough conscientiousness to report a crime. Or report a criminal... Before I lambaste you, allow me to explain what I did for others that you didn't have the courage to do...nor the global caring I've had, to do the right thing. And if you're considering condemning my honesty, and my being real. I'll use a movie line, "You can't handle the truth." Face it, you're a pussy, or a criminal of some sort yourself.  Here goes. When you didn't report that criminal or turned the other way to not be a witness to a crime. Then you're part of the problem. You have potentially allowed the criminal to commit more crimes. You've become an accomplice to every crime there after, that the criminal commits.  Imagine creating more victims in the world. Which effects relationships. It increases the need for more funds spent on health care. It creates less employment. It

How to Get a Free Brown Paper Bag...in New Jersey I know that sounds terrible. However, follow me for my literal and figurative 'sick humor'. The other day, my daughter said, "Mom I think I should take a Covid test." Alarm bells went off in my head for seven seconds. Then I realized, perhaps two people might be effected. And only one I'd worry about. One was me, and I wouldn't worry about me. The other a family friend had just helped us out, had close contact indoors with her.  Then I said to myself, 'This kid has such a heavy load... You know it wouldn't hurt for her to have to quarantine for a handful of days.' I giggled to myself as I moved things around in our garage, calling upstairs. "Yeah. I'll bring up a test kit."  Seconds later, I arrived in our kitchen with the kit. "You know the routine. Right?" She replied, "Yes Mom." She went on to read the package. As I went to recount how many tests would be lef

  I Ponder Deeper Throughout my life I have pondered many thoughts, about how I landed in this time— this place—this body. I’ve asked myself about what does this one view—sometimes broad view, matter to the world? Yes, those are the questions I ask nearly every day. More often now, I can add. Nearly thirty-five years ago, I was working in publishing and my supervisor accused me of having no time to ponder. I laughed, “It happens when I run(swim, drive, etc…).”   She considered I was too busy—that was before I had children. It was before I was abducted. It was before much. It was not before I knew how cruel life could be. That I’d understood. Yet, wondered why I needed to repeat the understanding of that. I knew it young. Younger than anyone should have to. Repeatedly, I’ve asked myself, ‘who will remember my thoughts? Does it matter? Where is it stored in the abyss of life?’ If, it is necessary to be stored at all. Everything I witness, I question the witnessing—the observati

I won't lie to you. I promise.  I'll show you. I'll warn you. I won't abuse you. I'll tell you the truth, diplomatically. I'll share my knowledge, when appropriate.  When I sense you are ready. I'll clean up after you, yes even when you're of age. That is to give you more time. More time than I ever had when I was growing up. It is to reduce your angst, your anxiety. I'll make you dinner and serve you every night with few exceptions.  I'll go to work, as I make certain you're safe. I'll do things to ensure your safety. When I prepare your breakfasts, and lunches for your day. I'll prepare them with all your studies and practices in mind. As well as for your adulthood. Trust me I'll study the latest known nutritional benefits.. Every night and morning,  I'll be detailed on your nutrition. I'll teach you how to stitch in time to save the nine. I'll teach you what a good public education can do for you. And I'll t

In speaking with an old friend, actually a former superior in the Marines the other day. Yes, we haven't seen each other since 2006. It's been a while since I've been under her command. We can actually diplomatically talk politics. Scary thought isn't?  As we are different religions. Me, I'm way out of the box. No indoctrination here. I'm the lost Catholic coming from a hard-core Republican old fashioned Catholic family to one side. Lutheran good girl from the other side. Sold that sex was something we didn't even say the word, until you were either married or Mom gave you a book on it to read.  And only tramps of the female persuasion joined the military. Yes, by my Dad's standards. I was disowned by him from 1980 till 1994 on that one. Looking back, it was not much of a loss though. Years later my dad realized I was stricter than he. And that my husband taught me all I needed to know about sex... You know that three letter word we couldn't say

Hope hangs in Balance, Awaiting Our Discipline... We may wonder... Why does death come to some earlier than others. It's as though we watch death come in and take someone and we're just standing there. The void is either quick or long awaited by those suffering or a long drawn out hanging on by someone, perhaps with something.  Is the hanging on, something to say? Perhaps some prophetic message? We stand and wait. Was it supposed to be our turn? Or were we meant to witness their turn? Or not waste it? In our existence when do we get the message? If there is a message to get, perhaps to give. Do we give it to death or in our dying? Or are we supposed to give it in our living? Or in not the waste of living? Every day l think of these questions or questions like these.  I witness people paying no mind to their existence. Some go into the 'wannabe' section. Neither progressing, nor moving. They remain the same, expecting others to come their way. Some do. Those which a

  Don’t Waste It… The teacher shortage subject came up two days ago, when a stranger’s car door was taken by the wind and hit my passenger side car door. Now, before anyone jumps to any conclusions… A miracle happened. Before I could check my passenger side car door. The middle-aged woman became emphatically apologetic. I replied, “Let me just check.” I checked, as wind whipped, and the sun shined in the near cloudless afternoon. There was not a mark. She repeated herself, “The wind just took the door.” I replied, “Hey. It’s okay. I understand. It happened to me about ten years ago. And see there’s not a mark.” Her car a large SUV relatively new. Mine a small Subaru also relatively new. I was surprised had no damage. Not a mark. She, still in apologetic mode. To allay her concerns. I said, “Let me tell you something. I’ll tell you why there is not a mark from your car door to mine. I’m not terribly religious. However, my husband died two years ago, and this was the car he ordered