Writing Reality

Age has nothing to do with it… 2/25/2023 As my usual after chores, I bicker with myself. “I don’t feel like running today. Just stop that. That’s crazy talk. Okay reset mind.” “Do I do chores then read, write, and edit for four hours then run?” Making tea and doing pet care. “Or do I do only pet chores, stretch and then run? Or do I do chores, read, stretch then run?” Putting the dishes away. “How about not stretching? No that’s dumb. Okay start over.” Emptying the trash. “Run after chores, read a little bit, stretch and get outside run at least five miles and try to do seven; but you know you wanted to run ten miles.” I stretched then got outside, “Well, we will see.” Hits stopwatch. “I better test the hill. I’ll know by then”. I’d been avoiding our big hill for days now. “Snowing is good. Maybe that’s what I needed. I really should do ten.” Up to Glen then over down Vreeland; then to Erie; then Ridge road. Pass the elementary school by Clinton. “Yeah. Com’on don’t

As each day presents new openings, new reinventing,  new struggles, new ahhh haaa moments and new episodes of tragic circumstances and closures of greatness. Today I've come to the list in my mind of things that sadden me, anger me, perhaps are hopeless in fixing: I'll open with Forner President Jimmy Carter now in Hospice at home was the third thing. The perpetual happenings of school shootings, and our lack of follow through to ensure better red flag laws to prevent loss and trauma to our newest of generations.  If we are so pro-life, one would think that the safety of our already birthed children in this life would be more important than your bumpstocks, your AR15s and no one who had bought a firearm could have such in their possession until they've had a background check, along with having all firearm purchases registered with the state. The first item on my list today, which is nearly tied by the tragedy at MSU is the derailment of Norfolk Southern's chemical loa

  At one point, some of us may recognize that our innocence is shattered. Which innocence that would be—depends on each individual. It could be an individual who suddenly realized that most people are liars. When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s; if I lied I would’ve been beaten by my dad and sent up to my room without dinner. Yes, that is what would’ve happened. And because I did not lie—that never happened to me. So, it took me till I was about thirty-seven years of age to understand that most people lie. I was so disturbed when my then running coach accused me of lying—that I called up a woman I knew as a trauma specialist. I needed to ask a trusted professional—why would my coach who’s known me for years accuse me of lying.   When I knew that I hadn’t. And that I would consider lying a criminal act. Yes, I believed that lying was/is one of the most sinful things a person could do. Lying to me is equal to a betrayal of sorts. It is painful, harmful to humanity at minimu

  Everything Changes Every morning in between chores, pet care, before I write, before I train—I read. I read standing up usually. Sometimes I get lost in reading an article and our pets will remind me as I’ll hear them racing around the living room and dining room. They’re waiting for the hay box I hold in my hand whilst I read an article on either nature, A.I., stocks, crime, medicine and politics. I’ll read at least three full articles within the first hour I’m awake.   Then others I peruse quickly and tag articles for later if I think its something of quality to read. Since I read from a variety of sources, I’ll jump around from one article to another source and perhaps another to see a different view—even if its not a source I feel is much on point. In doing this, I’ll have a broader view and with that my news feed will change and I’ll pick up on the new news of the day that might bring me back in time. Sometimes to only a handful of years ago. I’ll see the headline roll throu

“Turn Around, Look At Me…” My Fight for Roe V. Wade to be reinstated. Anyone knows the essence of the 1960s would remember this song. The time piece by the Vogues that floated through my head tonight as I heard this long-forgotten song—along with feelings that have left us over fifty years ago. This song and others of the 1960s played on our home radio when I was a kid. Then the cool transistor radio, hand-held by my older brother played them as well. We had a huge batch of 45’s and played them on an inclement weathered Saturday afternoon, when no friends were available to play with. We would listen to each 45 single and play Chinese checkers, crazy 8s, other card games and scrabble. Sometimes if it were warm enough, my older brother and I would play in our screened-in back room of our barn-house—unless it was a wind-whipped rain. Then it would be less convenient. As life is quite different now. Back then, our country wrestled with the ongoing Vietnam War. Most of us wanted to fo