Writing Reality

          The next evening it was then revealed to us at the dinner table by my dad about his relative, Aunt Grace who was a Christian Science Practitioner. Dad told stories of who’d been healed when she’d come over and prayed with and for them when dad was a child. One story went like so: My dad’s index finger was to be amputated the next day he was about age 10. Aunt Grace came over the night before and had the family of four at the time hold hands and pray with her together. The next morning the infection was gone, and the index finger was mostly healed.         The second story dad told that night was about his dad/Gramp. Apparently, Gramp suffered from outbreaks of boils. Gramp worked two and three jobs at time to provide for Nana and their children. Aunt Grace upon hearing her brother’s dilemma arrived at their house another night and said prayers with Gramp and the family. After that night, Gramp never had a boil on his bod...

Yeah. There are alot of white men in the United States of America; however, I'm now going to aim at their rule making, law-breaking, their bullying, along with their politicking to keep all the power over everyone else. As I continued my slow-read this morning of Rick Perlstein's "Nixonland", a book not quite 900 pages long. It addresses the media and the intertwining of primarily white men in politics over the last 100 years or there abouts.  I reflected back to how John Adams and Thomas Jefferson went at it in their usage of the media in newspaper form back in the 18th and going into the 19th centuries. Mind you, about the time of the 'birth' of our nation.  In the end, those two men suffered little compared to the masses and lived to become seemingly forever popular, even now.  As I'd slowly worked my way into the 20th century book reading this year, the pattern continues. White men manipulating who they'd desired to be beneath them. Spewing lies un...

As I watched the sunrise this morning just after five; then again I took a peak at the same view from our front door 90 minutes after house chores. I wondered, who witnesses what I do? Who sees this view as I have and do currently? What will become of this instance? I've asked those questions to myself for most of my life. Those mental camera shots. Who else has that same exact view as if we had a camera together, right at that moment? I take pictures in my mind everyday. Sometimes I take them on my phone, which appear more permanent. Yet, is what I'm witnessing exactly the same for anyone else? My thoughts on this are perhaps each moment is private. Not one person will witness or feel this very picture in its moment. That is regardless of how well I aim my phone's camera. Even with the best lense, not one other person in the world will be with me on this journey. And this is how infinitesimal and private our journeys are. I could compare these experiences to a converse ...

As I watched PBS' Big Cat series, survival runs through my mind. The lions, leopards and cheetahs all have to defend their territories. They need to eat. So, those that are carnivorous have to murder other species to get food to survive. I ask myself, if that is the same for us humans, here now. I'm not convinced it is.  So, then why are we going for more? More of things we will not be here to partake in. A person can have and enjoy just so much fun before it impinges on the rest of society. Yet we think that's okay, because its always been done. Not in my miniscule world it hasn't.  We could get down and dirty even on my ability to eat, to care, to move about in a variety of ways; however, what I've witnessed in throughout my life, are the people who having the most: The most in people loving them. The most compliments. The most friends.The ability to gain the most out of their education and also to advance in the educational realms.They put pavement over other peo...

I t was the end of the bus rides, as the day had been long. Fifteen hours of bus rides after graduating in my Alphas earlier that day. Then Fifteen hours on buses to get to my first assigned base. Too, I'd been careful not to soil any pressed and shined part of me. So, to be sat, I'd refrained from food and beverage for nearly a day.  It was my last bus ride. As I'd sat alone with the bus driver in the dark bus for a while. A nice black man was the bus driver. He'd made conversation at the right time for me. As he'd read me well.  "So, I'm just gonna' let you know. They'll be these Marines I'm picking up from Court Street, ma'am. They'll be a little drunk. It'll be okay." Not knowing exactly what he'd inferred. "Okay. Thank you, Sir." I'd not been asleep coming on 24 hours. Yet I was well-aware and wide awake. A feeling of the unknown I'd had, as those Marines in civilian attire loaded up from Court Stre...

It s funny how we deem what is safe, secure, doable. I knew by age eight that I had no saving grace. My parents were merely human. My dad was not going to rescue me under most circumstances. Would he try? I wanted to think so. Yet back then, understanding how fallible we were as human beings; I accepted the fact that when push came to shove, the truth was I was alone even then in this world. I had to become my own saving grace. My own hero. And if I could be there for someone else, then I would. Many decades later in 2008, as I'd attempted to race at the U.S. National 24-Hour Championships in Texas, this while still bleeding out just a few days after a burst ovarian cyst put me onto our toilet back and forth with dry heaves included. Then put me onto a floor sideways. That was only after I'd gotten our children's lunches made and packed. Cooked and served them breakfast bent in half. Telling them, "Mom just doesn't feel too good. Its okay." I'd paused. ...

After reading Tom Ridge's book, "The Test of Our Times", as I've read about historical events and such regularly. Now for the part of awareness and accepting certain feelings as 'just is'. Because you're just you. I'll bring us to what I was reminded of this morning upon reflection of a recent conversation.  Decades ago in the Marines, I took a course that was not required at the time by Marines. You took it to gain rank. Then eventually about a year later they threw it to our unit for an afternoon, for a general brief lesson. It was, how to wear a suit to be protected from things like nerve agents, going into areas after Chemical, Biological and Nuclear warfare agents have occurred. The course I took was way more than a day of studies. From my notes I have it was over the course of months.  It was broken down into sections under each area of warfare. Like Chemical agents of nerve, blood, choking, blistering and so forth. It would be hitting different ...

Just so you know, unlike what our youngest daughter thinks; I'm not paranoid. I'm aware. As a of matter of fact, I've kept myself aware most of my life over 90% of the time. Being aware, is not about fear. Awareness, is a preparation. Preparation for the things I know people will do, whether they should or they shouldn't. Its like a vibe.  You know we all have that ability. Yet most of us live such unclean, unclear lives we lose the tapping into the congruent vibe that is gifted to each of us, each individually.  Instead, we dive into paranoia. Then we feel anxious, too privately foolish. Or we're made to feel such. I'm not here to make you feel anxious nor foolish. I'm here to point out your ability to be aware. To clean up your act. Stop your OTC drug use, that you take without question or physician’s prescription. Limit your over all or any alcohol usage for a year or ever. Reduce your over indulgence in foods you know like sugar to name one, caffeine, an...

      As I awaited having my first cup of coffee doing chores—I wondered why or what it was that made me, even to this day of having the urge to save the world... so to speak.     The last two nights before bed I watched nature shows. That’s unusual for me.  It’s usually one night of nature and a science show spread out once a week. My usual was anything with law, anything heroic, historical figures, strategies were my preference—I'd begun to prefer series type shows.     Reading books, I gravitate towards autobiographical, historical people, events and how they climbed out of the event(s). Finally, this morning I asked myself, 'What have I been looking for?' What is it in heroism that I feel near to? Or that I feel is necessary—Heroism, or rescuing, being the rescuer. What is that about? Why do I still feel the urge since I could ever remember?      I thought that it could be the feel good feeling. It...

The Other Day... I was foodshopping. As I went to check out, I met a new cashier. Oh, by the way, how I meet new cashiers is that I rotate where I shop. It's not necessarily for lower prices. Its actually to save on time and gas dollars. I'd been doing this mindful shopping since I could drive in 1980, even though my mother wanted me to get my license the year before as I could have. I just didn't want to rush the responsibility of driving too soon. It was as well as I was aware of pollution and the usage of fossil fuels. So, the other day as I'd finished up shopping I headed to the cashier who'd not had anyone in line. All other cashiers were busy. She, Roxy as was on her name tag. Her set up was next to the customer service desk.  Roxy appeared old-fashioned in the sense you could tell that she took pride in her appearance by her makeup. It was what I'd witnessed as a child in the 1960s.  Roxy appeared near my age. Yet I realized she may be about 8-10 years my...

As I ran yesterday, I wondered what all the reasons were that I’d gone into the Marines. Also, at nearly the same time, I reckoned with what I’d witnessed in the animal kingdom from some nature shows, as well in my own backyard. Questions have been: why do we want what someone else has, if we have enough? It is important to have a defense mechanism in place; however, when is conquering enough? At this point, we should be at peace. There should be more peace. Out of gratefulness, we should be helping others. I went into the Marines to defend peace. Peace for those living in our country. Too, for those outside our country who want the basics, such as food, shelter, freedom and education, which lead to health. A healthy society is a happy society. Yet, at this juncture we have people wanting more. More is never enough. I’m witnessing those in our country who are demanding longevity but have not been willing to take care of the necessities that they’d been blessed with upon birth. I was le...

The criminal in the white house... our White House. You know We the People? If you hadn't noticed we're getting the shaft by the criminal in our White House. He's now hit a records long domestic deployment of military presence in a city in our country, and it ain't right. There's no reason to waste such resources in our nation's Capitol. Yet, congress and our other branches of power are allowing this. I remember my father-in-law and I having a conversation about his trip to Israel decades ago. He said, "Jody, its amazing. You're in Jerusalem and there are military personnel some armed with machine guns, seemingly everywhere. Its great that we don't live like that here."  He a World War II veteran stated such. I can only imagine what Herbie would think now. My husband had said, "You always had great talks with my dad." Yeah, Herbie and I had some indepth discussions. There was much to learn from him too. Herbie/Dad would have a line...

After nearly ten hours of sleep last night. I wondered what I'd get done today. And how my run would feel, more or less painful with my now knowing my running form had changed since my husband passed. My form weakened and got sloppier. I didn't think this would happen to me. I kept looking at the wear on the bottom of my running shoes. Yet, I accepted the unusual wear occurring at the heels of the shoes which years ago was never prevalent.  Then I noticed that once again the wear on my running shoes changed recently. I oscillated between three different types/pairs of running shoes over the past 10 days. My quads got sore, tired. Yet my legs felt different. I realized my old form from years prior was coming back. I had wondered why I couldn't get past a recent injury, no matter the hour I put in every day doing yoga, stretching and foam rolling before running. I knew the hours upon hours of writing every day would cause mental fatigue, thus it could effect my physical fati...

Yeah, I was tired this  morning... I've lived with pain throughout my life. I've ignored much of it. At least, that's what I'd stated to an Army Ranger years ago. He'd saw me fight with my coach one day in 2013. I was taking punches and kicks to the head, arms, body and legs from him. And still I pursued. At times cursing. It sucks when a guy who's been doing this fighting for nearly five decades lands his thick well-conditioned shin, just right on your bursa. It sends shock waves of pain through your body and gets you yelling, "Son of a Bitch!" Yet you pursue as you desire to go in for the kill, yet its training. By the way, you can't kill the coach. Because then, who else is going to know things about you in order to tell you what's left in your tank? I saw the Ranger turn to a guy as my coach now had gone across the open gym awaiting my response. Thinking the kick crippled me enough temporarily to stop me. No, now I was just more focused. As...

       When it’s the early 1960s and your parents are two different religions, one being Catholic. The priest is usually none too happy. Especially, if he wasn’t the one who married the mixed couple. Then they had the audacity to bring him their second living child for a baptism. One would think the priest would’ve been happy to have a chance to increase his parish size. Perhaps having a chance to indoctrinate another paying soul into his realm. But no, he didn’t like my name. Yes, the priest kept denying that my first name represented Joseph. He asked why they hadn’t named me Josephine. It was clear why. My dad’s family were of WASP origin, so we were told. Much later, nearly forty years later we would find out that Dad’s paternal side were originally Vikings who conquered the English Isle of Mann. Pagans—Oh dear God!     Then the Godparents.—both were church goers, but again one was Catholic and my Dad’s sister who was married to a full-bred No...

      It was 1981 and I was stationed at Camp LeJeune. I was working in the Motor Pool that afternoon. Amazingly I was not passing out from the unshaded hot pavement as I had the day before with heat stroke. The motor pool lieutenant was standing by a bunch of guys who’d moved what appeared to be part of a telephone pole into a clear area of the motor pool. The space was enough for thirty Marines to be just standing around, kibbitzing.    Somehow, I was commandeered away from dead-lining a five-ton truck that afternoon. The Sergeant and Lance I was near also had been called over to where the partial telephone pole was. As we meandered over, one guy said, “We’re going to do coordination drills.” They all looked at me. Yeah, I hadn’t got my first stripe yet. I knew what it was. I’d play along. Yet, not knowing how far they’d go. I’ll tolerate just so much fun when I’m exhausted from heat stroke, and I know there’s batteries to clean and other jobs that had ...

  ...And it would be the second time serendipitously I’d met Bill Rodgers, who was the four-time New York City Marathon winner and four-time Boston Marathon winner. [1] Only this time, it wasn’t just a “Hey. How you doin’?” Like in Pittsburgh on May 5 th of that year—as my husband and I walked by the Marathon Running god. It was, “I can’t find my car in this underground parking garage”. And my reply was, “Oh you’ve lost your car. I’ll help you find it.”         Earlier that morning I did a slow thirty-minute warmup before the race. Again, the race was chockful of world class runners. It was a rainy, nearly eighty degree day. I came across the finish line as fourth woman and 110 th overall finisher with a 1:17:31 for 20K. After the awards ceremony I walked around and spoke with some of the runners who’d finished around my time. Then I got my bag and went to find my car in the underground parking garage that we runners had been offered to park in before ...