Writing Reality

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Taxidermy John One summer morning in 1990, I got up earlier than normal to buy the Sunday paper at a local 7-11 for my husband, Norman.  I figured on my way back from running practice I’d pick up Bagels and make a big brunch for us.  The day started out extremely hot and humid.  The sun was a typical July sun in New Jersey.    I drove from my apartment in Haledon to a 7-11 just over the border in Wayne for the paper.  Upon getting out of my car, in front of the store was a cardboard box.   As I approached the front door, I saw a little kitten in the box.  I looked around.  There appeared to be no one in sight.  I called into the store from the front door.  The man behind the counter said it wasn’t his.  Actually he seemed a bit annoyed that I'd asked.  The other 2 customers were men near the counter.  They looked at me as if I were nuts and had no response and no concern.  The kitten was in the worst place. ...

  Have a little Faith: I was told I needed to have a tumor removed in early 2014, the doctors felt it was deadly. The tumor grew in between fights, as I had gone for my next pre-fight physical, CT Scan/MRI, along with neurological exam, eye exam, and blood work. A growth was found in my face wrapping around zygomatic arch and trigeminal nerve. It was measured the size of a quarter all the way around in my face. I did not let on to the doctor finding this, that my brother had died eight years before from a tumor covering and crushing the ventricles, and all surrounding areas of his heart, except about just under an inch of the apex of hus heart. Our children, I realized I might see them arrive at high school, but I would probably not see them graduate. My coach knew, I waited three days as I practiced on my coach before telling my husband that the plan was surgery on my face and who knew what else they wanted to do. I decided inside my mind, that I would risk death over traditio...

  I am Your Asian Mother… If we went back in time. Say 10,000 or 20,000 years ago, we might be surprised that we are made up of the cultures we don’t think we are. That being said, I’m certain we are all related. I’ve noticed recently, our supposedly sensitivity to other’s culture is lopsided on both ends of the spectrum. Follow me. When I was a teenager sitting in Mr. Ritchie’s Biology class, I daydreamed here and there. He’d catch me daydreaming. He’d never gotten angry. He’d smile and wouldn’t pick on me. He would remark, “You out running in your daydream?” I’d reply, “Uh. Yeah.” He’d smile. Mr. Ritchie never asked me who I was running with. In my daydreams, I was running with foreigners. Who I thought I’d never meet. For I figured, I’d never have the money to visit them in their countries. I didn’t come from much. So, when in my senior year of high school. I was offered the Non-Western Civilization class for my third required history course to graduate high school.  ...

  July 1 st , How One Views the World...   I believe it was Albert Einstein who said something to the effect of, ‘If you view the world as an unruly, unkind place. Then… that is what it is…for you…’   I said to my husband after his fatal diagnosis at end of 2019: "You're just too gosh darn innocent. And there's just nothing right with that." It was as if to say, ‘You? Of all people.   You’re just too innocent. Just too wet-behind the ears in this world, to have been given this diagnosis. It should have been me, not you.’ On Christmas morning 2019, I did say that to him, privately.   Moving forward, I knew I had to accept this seemingly unpleasant dilemma. As usual, I pondered. I wondered. I knew the answer would arrive sooner rather than later.    Years earlier, Thursday, June 30 th , 2011. I know the date oh so well. Reason being, that a miracle occurred on Friday, July 1 st , 2011. Every time I mention that, I get a chill. Or something...

Tomorrow marks more than one anniversary for me. Both are special...Here is one of them... So tomorrow marks the completion of forty-six years of running. I started at age 13, July 1st 1976. I was told I was too slow. I was told I had too many foot and hip issues. I was told that I’d quit, because I was a girl. I was told I’d grow out of it by end of high school. I was told my knees would get destroyed and I’d be an old lady by age forty and all crippled. My mom asked me one day when I was a teenager, “So at what age do you think you can run till?” I responded, “Oh, I don’t know 65, maybe.” She replied, “Yep. I think so.” It was implied I’d lose the will to run let alone race when I became a mother. I was told, it couldn’t be done. A record couldn’t be set by someone with no talent, rearing children and working full time. I was told I’d be tired and get distracted and end up like everyone else in one of the tribes I have been associated with. So I ran anyway... I’d sit in...

  ...perhaps the soles of our shoes. My father-in-law used to say the feet are what soldiers depend on, as we do food. He said that to me in 1985 as I stood in his home office.  My husband, Norman was a shoe guy. And it was all about the soles on the shoes.  For me, the way I have stayed on my feet was soul deep. Sometimes praying every step of the way, to not fall over out of exhaustion. The approximately 170,000 miles of running, many of which Norman had witnessed or known of. He wondered how I stayed standing working on my feet all day. Only to come home, and go for a second run at midnight at times.  Often Norman would give me a lecture on good shoe care. It was about the soles of the shoes. He'd point out stitching on a shoe that was done wrong. Therefore commenting, "...giving a shoe less time of wear on this earth."  He'd remark quite often. "You have to buy good quality shoes." I have to say, there was absolutely something comedic about his shoe obse...