Writing Reality

  I really don't like people; but strangers are cool. I've had this experience multiple times in my life. Meeting and talking to strangers, mostly a truly great experience. Both our daughters have made fun of me striking conversations with cashiers and people waiting in line. It's one thing at times I take some sort of comfort in doing. As I still ailed from spinal trauma causing leg trauma. In May 1995 I decided to run a ten mile race in Philadelphia. I knew my right leg would spasm; yet, I decided 'maybe it will change'.  It'd been two years postoperative spinal fusion with hip graphing at that point, was still being felt. I kept encouraging my body to get 'the show on the road'. Yes, I was waiting for a miracle. Pain I can deal with, it's the malfunction of the leg that I couldn't or rather I refused to adjust to.  For pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Too, sometimes we can learn to 'suffer well'. I'd had pain most of my

Today, I called up a lawyer friend. I had called for an answer to a question and knew she would answer me with total truth. She would not worry about hurting my feelings. I awaited her rebuttal on my thought process on something I finally stated publicly. And I'd held off doing so. She told me what I thought and said was correct.  Then she asked what I've learned from the graduate course on English writing and editing mostly for law students out of University of Michigan. And on the VotingMatters.org courses on how to speak amicably in a non-partisan way. How to understand where people are at in their thinking and lives. I asked, "For Real? You want me to give you a lesson?" She replied, "Yes." So, I proceeded. I.gave this recent example that actually occurred: Yesterday, as a maintenance worker for my home's heating system was in for our twice a year check-up. Somehow I found out he'd lived in Southern California for.many years. Primarily in San

It was about mid-April 2018, my phone rang that night. I picked up the phone, "Hey Dolores. Hang on a sec."  I asked Hubby, "Norm! I got Dolores on the phone, could you get the kids to bed. I'll be on for a while, if that's okay."  "Go right ahead, Jody."  "Thanks." I go down to our basement, situate a punching bag across some wrestling mats, to rest against. It's going to be a long chat, I know. "Okay, I'm here. How'd it go?" Dolores begins, "Well, I drove Bob all over. You know he was a little late."   I replied, "Oh no. I'm so sorry."  She remarked, "He got lost getting to my apartment."  "Oh okay. Sorry about that. I told him to let you know, so you wouldn't worry. Oh well. So, tell me how'd it go?" "Yeah. So nice guy. I drove Bob around for hours."  "He told me you drove him all over Paterson and surrounding areas for like 4 hours. Is that ri

  I still remember driving over the GWB to ground zero early in the morning. Then back hpme to New Jersey about 14-17 hours later on a weekend evening. The kind, friendly, caring, firefighters,  police officers, paramedics and those volunteers from all over the U.S. and Canada too that I met as I walked to ground zero, worked and walked back to my car usually a mile or so away. The last day at night a NYFD firefighter saw me carrying my therapy chair backpack and a bag of therapy items.  I had another mile to walk. He was so tall, the firefighting gear he wore made him look even taller. He was in his late 30s. He asked, "You leaving?" I replied l, "Yes." He responded, "I saw you earlier working.  Let me help you. Where's your car?" I was astonished. He stopped me and took my backpack and therapy chair off my shoulders and hoisted them up on his shoulders. We walked and talked at 10pm for 20 minutes or so to just blocks before my car. Then other firefig

Where is here? One might ask. Here is today. I contemplated this—as one of my many thoughts that had floated through my mind in the finishing touches of repairing, and repainting our 16 x 14-foot deck, rails and all. Whether anyone knew this or not, there are now disposable paint brushes that work just fine. Convenience at this point in my life is what I’m looking for. I’m not looking for the easy button—but the proficient button? ‘Yes’.   This all came to me in my writing mind as I realized I’d painted myself away from my half-filled coffee mug now sitting on the dry spot of our deck. Thank God I was not stupid enough to paint my own body into a corner—that would have been absolute mayhem. Instead, I’ll be waiting till the paint dries and use another mug in the meanwhile. Obviously, that half-filled mug of coffee hadn’t brought me to a full awakened position, even though eight hours had passed since I’d woken up this morning. After tossing out a four-inch disposable paint brush