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Showing posts from December, 2022

Everything Bizarre Happens in Long Island

 I laughed hardily this morning as a local comedian posted a hysterical line on social media. It was about the now, perhaps becoming disgraced, elected, Long Island official George Santos. “Bizarre things happen in Long Island.” I said to our twenty-year-old this morning as she got ready for work. “What do you mean Mom?” She decried. I explained, “George Santos…” “Who?” I laughed as I explained how even the Democrats let this guy fly under the radar. “…Funny, I would have never thought of lying even a little bit, to a point where I was told by a psychologist, well-known in her own right… Who wanted me to be an activist for a man running for office years ago. She said, ‘Don’t ever get the idea you could be a politician. You’re just too honest. And not like anyone else I’ve ever known’.” Then I explained to our twenty-year-old daughter the Amityville Horror story, the Long Island Loliita story, just to name two more after the now George Santos story. “Yes, there are o

It Wasn't Easy

  Here we are for my 60 th Christian New Year’s Eve, and Barbara Walters has passed. I have to say I have had mixed emotions about the news icon. And no, I will not call her a female news icon.   That would be diminishing to her to put her in such a bucket. My mixed emotions about her are only based on her interviewing, or shall I say the promotion of a murderer by interviewing him. I will not place his name here, use your imagination. I knew people who were affected by him. Once she interviewed him, I temporarily could no longer take Barbara Walters seriously as a reporter. It took me a while to come back and watch her. I eventually watched her again, because it was for women. Only a few people heard me say which interview it was and how I felt about it. This piece is not all about Barbara Walters breaking the glass-ceiling for women as a reporter and such. It is a piece about how it wasn’t easy to deal with getting there. Getting to the glass ceiling before even touching it. Wha

The Curse of Zero-Covid

  The Curse of Zero-Covid The world is a smaller place since my birth in 1962. There are now about eight billion people in the world. Sixty years ago, there were 3.6 billion people in the world. Something to consider when in our thoughts on medical practice and the science that goes before it. Funny I am not a conspiracy theorist. Not even close. Call it na├»ve if you’d like. But I have other theories though.   Logical ones, things science cannot not express because they fear being shot down for a theory they themselves may be skeptical of.   Or fear that they won’t make the most of a situation that needs to be exposed. Remember scientists bleed just like we do.   They have the same capacity of all the emotions we have, most of us that is. Scientists who want to give definitive answers and assurance go into medical practice; be it allopathic or   less traditional formats of practicing medicine to people on a regular basis. It truly is all the same. Either you take a synthetic medici

Names 'R Important

  American River with Rae Clark Names ‘R Important “T-bone, the ladies are gonna’ love yah.”--- Jerry Seinfeld to his friend George. This line is from the 175 th episode of Seinfeld “The Maid”. Jerry’s friend George is sick of being called George. Albeit it’s his given name. George wants a cool nickname. But no matter how hard he tries to get his self-selected nickname ‘T-bone’—it never holds for George. Something tells me some of us go through life truly not appreciating our given birth names.   I know people who’ve gone and spent the money, having their names completely changed. Yep. Usually, they are unmarried and do not have children—I’m speaking of the ones I know who are not famous. Most that I know personally are women. I didn’t come from that, neither the money to have that ability to do such. Although getting married and staying married helped with half my name. Even upon birth my name was doomed. But that’s not really where it all began—it began at least in vivo. Yep

Christmas is Full of ...

  Christmas is full of wishes, hopes, dreams and perhaps joys. Things we desire and things we need. Everyday I awaken, I know I have more now than I had as a child—by far. We have two refrigerators, air-conditioning, nice heating system, colored television, three landlines to phones, relatively new cars that we paid in full upon purchase.   Yes, no debt outside the monthly, quarterly, semi-annual and annual bills to pay. I can drive to the food store. Our daughters have never or rarely ever; I can count on one hand that they had to get something for the house because I’d forgotten an item or couldn’t afford it on my weekly shopping list. We have three pets. Our daughters have and will have an incredible education—the choice of being studious is up to them.   We have a double oven. We have an attic and a basement. Our daughters work, not because they have to right now, but because they want to. We parents have had our own bedroom. We have two bathrooms. We have a washer and a dryer.


Today marked three years ago my husband found out he wouldn't be around much longer. So, in recognizing such I made a list. Things my husband missed with our daughters and then the world: Oldest getting accepted to the college she wanted the most.  Youngest applying to colleges. Oldest learning how to fly on her own, be on her own, go on vacation with friends without us.  Youngest excelling in sport and academics.  Oldest graduating high school. Youngest getting her driver's license.  Oldest working three jobs while a senior in high school working 30-40 hours a week then achieving Valedictorian.  Youngest's tennis matches in three of her four years of high school girl's Tennis.  Oldest buying her first brand new car. Yes all paid up. She has her own car insurance now, she pays it. Youngest teaching herself how to crochet.  Oldest working while in college and excelling.  Youngest throwing shot put indoors and outdoors breaking thirty foot barrier and then some. Oldest ca


  Action, not just belief is a source of holiness… How does one become Holy? Would be a question at this time of the year for a variety of reasons. Holiness when checked via a dictionary means: “Worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness.” Philosophically, we as humans can only be so perfect. We may strive for it—which could be considered a noble effort. Yet it doesn’t measure up equally across the board in all lives. What’s holy to you may not be holy to someone else. Just like, what’s of great value to you may not hold the same value for someone else. Even in marriage our individual ideologies concerning perfection of goodness, and such are not the same. As much as we strive for unity; somehow that does not usually bring happiness. Happiness, joy, ease of mind and mellow of soul along with concern for others may be a poetic perfection of living. And therefore be considered holy. Then we might consider holiness to be perfection of living to the de


  Unbeloved Why do we withhold our information of love? I asked myself this question this morning. When I was growing up, there was not this love information from my parents. The love information is someone saying I love you casually and not in a time of desperation. As I grew up I wondered what was missing. Yet, I accepted as a child that love was shown in housing you, feeding you—basic provisions to you as a child was considered love. I’m here to tell you today it’s not. Rather, that’s not how it should work. When my mother at times wondered why I wrote a certain way or spent times alone, appearing lonely. She’d remark that if I didn’t feel loved—It was because perhaps I was the unloved second child, she’d claimed. In other words, it was only a feeling. However, that answered little and was void of the truth. In the extreme dysfunctional environment, I came from. Back then I had no clue it was that bad. Yet, as I pulled away from the family I’d been around—entering the Marines,

Beyond Indoctrination

Beyond Indoctrination  Can you imagine that just maybe the human race is just that? A species of its own? When you look out at the night sky have you ever wondered about other galaxies? Like the ACO2744, a group of 500 galaxies. Too there are galaxies that are a few hundred million years old. Now consider how vain we are to believe us humans on earth are the only possible form of a higher thinking over all other creatures we know on earth. And that we are the highest source in finality of thinking, being, inventing and so forth. Except perhaps as a Supreme Being that may have made an even more advanced group of thinkers and doers than us, who may be living light years away. Perhaps there is a species like humans whose average I.Q. is 350, which actually exists. And that their form of a M.Vos Savant has a 1,000 I.Q. Imagine that. When you begin to read science and question what else exists infinitely beyond our solar system... What is in our universe? Or why would it take 62 trillion m

What Humanity Must Face

  What Humanity Must Face 'We shelter the ignorant, the racist': Adam Kinzinger's obituary of the GOP. The numbers of those considered right-wing to the far right in that group is twenty-five percent. That twenty-five percent are a form of white supremacists, fascists, basically hate-mongers. The Conservatives, some Religious groups, and the GOP have lost their way. They’re split into the deniers and haters, the hiders, and the willfully blinded. As I am addressing this in America; it is not just occurring in the United States. It is in the current fabric of the entire world’s population. It effects every country. It is archaic thinking—tribalistic in nature. There is no progression for humanity when one group thinks that they are superior due to looks, ethnicity and the like. It is purely frontal lobe thinking. At this point in the game of life—humanity has no place for it. Most in society do not desire to hate. Human’s souls are congruent with Love and the ideolog


  Frozen Frozen was the word that came to me last night after watching a brief interview with a parent who’d lost her six-year-old during the mass murder ten years ago at Sandy Hook Elementary. Yes, I will call it mass murder—because that’s exactly what it was. There is no beautifying such gut-wrenching cold-hearted death. Too, life for most of us is hard as it is. And that type of tragedy no one needed to experience. There is no upside to such a tragedy. Time is frozen of the dreams that would be realized—gone. That is how this one mother described it. Afterwards, about an hour or so later, I watched a fiction tragedy. Or rather a multitude of tragedies all in one forty-two-minute show unfold. As I have experienced much, yet wondered what others do in real-life when they are frozen in time—with the death of a dream or a loved one. I began to dissect what could be the correct feelings of a personal tragedy. Does a person wait to climb out of it? The frozenness of something incomp


  Snowflakes As I run, one of the things I think of often—is how what I view and feel about what I am witnessing as I run and in my life is fleeting. The witnessing is frail. The witnessing is only mine to acknowledge to live and die with and like no other—with barely a relevance like a snowflake. One flake falling has its own identity as it floats from sky to earth. If it lands just right it becomes part of a hampered or joyous experience to others. However, that snowflake may also become something else—either before or after it hits the ground. It may become part of a frozen tundra, a sloppy slush or merely a drop of water. Either way, it becomes part of who we are; how we respond; where we go; what we love; what we fear. Whether we like it or not that one snowflake is part of what impacts every living thing’s life—on so many unimaginable levels. As I watch the snowflakes drop when I run; I am reminded too of the irrelevance of my life. The non-entity, that many would like to n

Save the World

  Save the World No, this is not some environmental blog here. Although I consider myself a bit of a tree hugger. Love trees. People? Meh. The jury is still out on that. Dogs are great. Now back to saving the world. Yeah for people—meh. As I watch and have gotten hooked on the DC series “Arrow”. I’m in the middle of the second season. Since its on Netflix , there is much convenience to watching it when I want to. I do prefer it late at night. Part of it, is to learn of new young actors and actresses—seeing what I could possibly design for them in a new feature film or television series. Yes, I sit there and watch how the actors and actresses act. I dissect the length of their dialogue and how they portray mannerisms. I wonder, ‘Are they limited to acting in only this type of scene? Can they change how they hold their expression and/or deceive the audience?’ I watch for scene progression. The linear and non-linear scenes. Such as: Does the episode always stay in the present? Or

The Release

  The Release Today, I am grateful that Britney Griner was released in a trade with a said dangerous criminal.   I will say her release reminds me of a scene from the 1982 Star Trek Movie “The Wrath of Khan”. Where Commander Spock sacrifices himself to save all on board the Starship Enterprise. As Spock Captain Kirks’ Science Officer is dying—he states to Captain Kirk, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.” Then Spock dies. The ship’s crew is devastated, because their thinking is ‘everyone is relevant’. Don’t judge. Follow me. This morning after chores and over two hours of training—I put the radio on as I drove to run an errand. That is when I heard of Britney Griner’s release. It made me feel good again about being an American. Only the hateful, the bigoted would not want me or anyone else to feel that way. When I was in the Marines I was taught—to be tactful, diplomatic and to remain an individual who could not only take orders; yet be able to think

Be Your Super-Hero

  Be Your Super-Hero I don’t believe many realize this; especially as they get further past the age of ten. But you’re supposed to be your Super-Hero. We all have that ability to be a Super-Hero. Go ahead laugh—then picture who you’d be if you decided to be your Super-Hero. Metaphorically, your cape may be your grimace or your smile. It dresses up your look. Both cover complaints, bodily or otherwise. Something always needs to be rescued—that’s why I believe most of us get to the point of internally feeling overwhelmed, apathetic—Basically disenchanted with our lives and the life around us. Every day at some point and time I think, what would or could make me a Super-Hero? In my darkest moments I consider how insignificant I have been and perhaps always will be. Yet there’s a component to my nature that perpetuates the desire to be a Super-Hero. Because we all need a Super-Hero. There’s no denying that. I began to hash this out last night as I watched another episode and anoth