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 |   Poetry and Prose about life, family, thoughts & Lesbian concerns of heart |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Come in for a visit. I write about my life as a daughter, mom, grandmother, friend and life partnership with my lesbian wife. You may smile, laugh or cry, either way you'll have learned about life in America since 1938. ANN And, my friend, I understand because all my silent years I was so deep into my church and Christian activities and feared 'sin' and felt shame when 'sex' was mentioned. Nobody spoke of the "horrible" sin they would not name (the rape of a child); At the same time, I watched ministers and deacons and Sunday School teachers sneaking around committing adultery, while I desired and lived 'without sin' as I knew sin to be as I was taught. I thought and studied the Bible and realized how today's preachers and teachers condemn only what they don't do or what a church leader has said to condemn; I've seen the woman run out of the church but not the man; I saw enough, and I knew the heart of love within me, from all through my life had its focus; it was never about 'having sex'. ...Heck, I didn't know about homosexuality until my college years; then I understood my heart and there was never a sexual thought associated with anyone before my marriage to the man who 'chased' me three years then almost murdered me 16 years later as my children heard the physical fight. After that I stayed single Mom, never dated, just had many friends and my children. Finally after raising my grandson, and knowing my own heart would never ever seek love from a man, I acknowledged that all my life, all of my relationship experiences and feelings clearly showed I had a heart that was drawn romantically with deep love that I could not ever express. Then I moved to Portland, came out and you know you can read the rest of the story. I know how God created my heart. If I don't believe God created me as I am, how could I live? It has nothing to do with 'doing' anything at all; it is 'being' as my Creator created me. ............................................................................................................................................................................................................ I retired in Idaho then moved to Oregon to show my pride as a member of the latest hated group across America: I am a lesbian and when I came "Out at Sixty", I came with pride and joy that I no longer had to hold the secret or carry the shame thrown at gay men and lesbians. With that same pride, I accept all persons and their right to be who they are and live with joy, peace, and the pursuit of happiness. I took a writing course at age 69 and began to write short stories, poems, essays, Op-ed comps and I found Writing.com where I am an Advocacy Writer, writing as an advocate for every person to have Civil and God-given rights each day as they pursue happiness for themselves and their families. Yes, most of my writing has been about gays and lesbians, however, I believe every person in the world shares the same heart and spirit to live peaceably with all peace loving people; while seeking to change the minds of those who live with anger, hatred, prejudice, racism and such. |
| Prompt: Many cultures have stories that describe the creation of the world. As a writer, write your own original account of how the world began. There was a beginning Of this earth of we share. The Beginning was Creative Power Not the kind that melts and turns sour But that which the human voice cannot define Creative Power began to move over all the space Followed by light and substance which then changed. Soon Creative Power stopped to see all that was following And saw a magnificent universe of light, planets, stars Floating in a pattern with purpose but something Was missing for Creative Power sought Relationships, communication, love So came human hearts To share in love. |
| Prompt: your get an award; what do you say? The Awards Assembly at Modesto High was significant to me every year, especially in my senior year, I had one great hope: to be worthy of receiving the Babe Ruth Award for sportsmanship. As a freshman at the assembly, I heard the award described and the surprise winner was Barbara Veneman, the GAA President whom I had so admired and who became my model for leadership and character. Each year preceding the assembly, there would be conversations, among those of who loved that award and its great importance, about who might be the chosen winner. Those days before the assembly in my senior year, many individuals from various classes would come up to me and say, "Ann, you just have to, you will win the Babe Ruth Award" along with wonderful compliments about what I had meant to them in my role as a GAA leader. To receive that honor was my life's single dream; no other dream would ever mean as much to me; my four year hope may or may not be met and it was my primary focus the week before the assembly. After the ballots were in for the senior vote regarding which of the class were "The Best..." in a varity of categories, I was selected along with Roger Fisher as "Most Athletic" and our photo was taken for the yearbook. I have always been grate to my fellow students for that. He was a member of the wonderful team that won the football championship that year. At our 50th class reunion years later, his wife took another photo of us as we talked about that year. The evening before the awards assembly, my father in his wisdom reminded me that my dream may not come true and that I should prepare for that. I understood his concern while I continued to hope. During the assembly my GAA friends, Beverly Johnson and Judith Lee and I were on the stage to receive recognition or scholarships. The PTA presented me with a $200 scholarship that paid my books and tuition for the next two years at Modesto Junior College. The final award winners were selected by the teachers who determined the winner of the Babe Ruth Award. Expectation was high by students all over the auditorium. Many boys, who were part of the Championship football team, could have been chosen. Roger Fisher received and was loudly cheered as the winner of the Babe Ruth Award for the boys. Judith Lee, the spring semester President of GAA, was surprised and awarded the award for the girls. Judith, Beverly and I had been friends and supporters throughout the four years in GAA and the many classes we had together. As a Japanese American, it is possible that her family had been among those who were placed in interment camps, like prison camps in some ways, during the war with Japan a decade earlier. She and her sister, Loretta, were both my friends. I was happy for Judith and am sure that the Babe Ruth Award was meaningful to her and her family. That afternoon I learned the most significant lesson of my life; that there are always major disappointments in life, therefore, be prepared for them. The moment of the announcement of that surprise award, my heart was broken and my sense of self took a dive. The tears that overwhelmed me stuck in my throat and I was unable to speak for a while so, to calm myself, I rushed outside through the curtain and back door of the auditorium. Since I had to be on the stage for the repeat of the awards assembly for the other half of student body, to receive my scholarship again, I gathered my thoughts and emotions, went back in where I approached Judith and congratulated her. It was difficult for me after the assembly as I walked the hallway and many friends came up to express their desire that I should have received the award. As quickly as possible, I left to walk home alone because the tears were becoming too powerful to control. My father knew what had happened when he saw me; and, he consoled me with the reminder that I was still the strong and capable person that I was always was. He reminded me to learn from that experience. I did learn and never again in my life did I have expectations without also understanding the disappointments and lessons possible. The disappointment of that day stayed with me for years until I was a teacher at a high school and participated in the end of year teachers meeting where the teachers decided who would receive the senior awards. The teachers appalled me as they used irrelevant information, like who the parents were; and, since a student was receiving a scholarship that she or he should not receive the Babe Ruth Award! I spoke up to challenge my fellow teachers for treating the awards so flippantly and trading off who should receive awards based on unrelated information. I was reminded that there had been a new physical education teacher at Modesto during my senior year that had treated me badly. She taught the Leadership Class which I had looked forward to taking as a senior and she was the GAA leader that year. As I listened to teachers choose winners of awards without respect to the value that students placed on awards, I resolved my disappointment and knew that the lesson I had learned by not receiving the award, was in fact, the better award. |
| September Senior Forum contest Freestyle form and rhyme BLENDED SUN, SKY AND RAIN Most beautiful of all things we see, When they join together in harmony, Are rainbow colors brightly in the sky. Clouds of white and gray move slowly by. Then come the rain with drops flowing down, Forming the colors with the sun above our town. We’re amazed by their brilliance in the sun bright, They glisten through the raindrops with colorful light. |
In the old days, it was said, "blondes had more fun". With all the color options available to men and women today do you still think that still applies or does another hair color win. Or do you think it doesn't really matter?{/?b} What do you mean "old days"; those were the days of Marilyn Monroe, Betty Hutton, Rita Hayworth, Jane Mansfield and other blond dynamites in Hollywood. Those weren't "old days"; I was alive and living my teenage years. For almost everyone, "the teenage years" "were just yesterday", not some "OLD DAYS"..... 'nough said.... The phrase "blondes have more fun" applied to flirtation and sexual encounters as the "fun". Remember, just as many of those blondes in the 1940's and '50's were getting pregnant outside of marriage, having damaging illegal abortions, having their baby raised by their parents or aunts, losing the boyfriend they gave their virginity to so he could damage other 'blondes' and even brunettes, being sent away from home for nine months to some town or maybe a Catholic "Home for Wayward Girls" where their babies were born then ripped from their arms, and some found their way to a caring, loving Booth Home to receive nurturing and kindness until they gave the baby away when their parents demanded. Sure, "blondes had more fun" but don't ever believe it. It's just that blonde was the only artificial color available to the "wild girls", later called "California Girls", who loved to flirt and party with the boys. In recent decades, thanks to Clariol, any teenage girl or woman, even grandma, could have any color of hair she wanted. They opted for normal hair colors until the last two decades when their choice has been blue, hot pink, bright yellow, green, purple or mixed. So, all the wild ones still have that "wild side of life" opportunity and still, some get pregnant and may seek an abortion, choose to adopt the baby or raise the baby with or without the baby's father around; the guys still don't take responsibility for what let their tiny 'manhood' do unto others for their selfish pleasure. My wonderful niece, now thirty-one lived her early teenage years with her divorced mother who constantly criticized the way she had her hair and other uniqueness about her. So, she went to live with her dear father, my brother. Whenever she colored her hair blue, he took her photo. When yellow, he took her photo. When green... you get the idea. Even when she shaved her head, he took a photo. He never critisized her hair color or style. He just loved whom she was, as she was, and eventually, she had a "normal" hair color and style, studied, is a Registered Nurse, wonderful mother and wife. Just think what her mother three states away, missed out on during those amazing developmental years. Her father, my young brother tried to bleach and lighten his hair when he was nineteen in college. The next morning when Dad came in to the kitchen for breakfast, took one look, then sat down to read the paper and eat his meal WITH HIS BACK TO HIS BRIGHT YELLOW HAIRED SON. The same brother, at sixty-five decided to grow his silver-gray-bluish hair LONG. Since he had curly hair, he went around four states with long shoulder-length curls until it wasn't fun anymore; so he put on a black suit and black western hat, had his photograph taken, then trimmed it back like any other grandpa; he'll never be bald so he still has control. Speaking of silver gray hair, I found my first white hair at age sixteen. By thirty-three most of my hair was silver-gray. My elementary school daughter liked it because it was easy for her to find me in a crowd on the days parents went to school. The only time I decided to darken my hair back to a nice brunette was after I turned forty and was NOT getting interviews for job opportunities (before that I got an interview for every decent job out there; and if I got the interview, I was offerred the job). Age discrimination in the late 1970's. So, one day I turned it brown. After rinsing the chemicals out, I looked in the morror and was so stunned at the stunning younger woman in the mirror, I laughed and giggled for an hour or so. I think even my little dog laughed too. Hair color has nothing to do with "having more fun" but just shows individuality. I suppose there are just as many blondes in prison as there are outside of prison, percentage wise. So, no big difference.{/font} |
Prompt: Youre having a nightmare, and have to choose between three doors. Pick one, and tell us about what you find on the other side. Just last night I had a nightmare, was falling down into a swollen river, screaming, AND I was yelling aloud awakening my wife and she ran to see what was happening and woke me up. I was still emotional; the fear in the nightmare was so very real. DOWN, DOWN, DOWN In my dream, there are three doors. I remember the story about "The Lady and the Tiger" in which a young Christian man in Rome's colloseum has two doors to choose from: behind one is the Lady he loves, behind the other is a tiger. Just as he chooses, the author of this long told story, ends the story. I read the story in fifth grade and remember my frustration. I wonder what's behind the three doors, probably my worst fears. Can I handle them? I wonder if I will choose one that I cannot handle, but my captors give me the choice. I cannot walk away. One door has an angel on it. That seems comforting but may be the worst possible choice. One door has a red devil painted on it. That could be a joke to make me thing it unfriendly when I would welcome it. Nevertheless, I choose the door with no art on it, just a dull, drab green door. When I open the door, I see only darkness. My captors put their spears to my back. "Step inside", they tell me. I take a small step and find solid ground is under my foot. Good, this can't be too bad if I can walk on something. I take a second step and just as my foot should touch the ground again, I fall forward into the darkness. In the darkness, my screaming bounces off whatever walls are there. I am terrified. What is below me? Can I deal with it? Will I live or will I die? My thoughts are scrambled as fear overwhelms every cell in my body. Lights appear far below me. I can see a raging, muddy river. Oh, God, help me. I can't swim. I'll drown. My screaming continues to bounce around the darkness. I feel cool breezes against my skin, making my skin crawl cold. The waves of the river are pulling me down, down, down. I can do nothing but close my eyes and wait for a cold, wet death. I'm ready to die. When I do this all-encompassing fear will be gone and I'll know nothing after a few seconds in the muddy water. Nobody will ever find my body. It's a hell, I face. Those moments in the water go by fast. I hardly have time to suck in the water before I die. Nothing exists now. I don't. I open my eyes and see celestial beings comforting me. I'm in heaven. Thank you, God. I'm glad you saved me from all that horror. |
a place of beauty, harmony and joy... I can find my way to the lovely garden by walking through the grove of trees where I feel the coolness, watch and hear the squirrels scampering and the little rabbits hopping. I can hear the chirping of many birds hidden in the trees yet calling out to be found by their friends. On one branch is the perfect beauty of the red cardinal sitting in the sun, looking more red today than before. Soon, I'm leave the woods, cross a sandy river bottom, dried to sand eons ago, to the stand of trees on the other side. As the sand warms my feet, I can see the many small creatures scattering away to hid from the sounds and shadow made my be. I smile at them, knowing I would never purposely hurt them. A narrow foot bridge leads me across a clear water creek and I open the small gate to the garden, my goal. I can smell the scent of roses, lilacs, honeysuckles, and other flowers as the gate squeaks behind me. Beyond me is the most beautiful floral garden I have ever seen. Besides those with lovely scents, there are hydrangea plants, huge and round, loaded with so many colors of blooms. My favorite is the deep violet with the rich royal blue, a close second. To list the colors and varieties of plants in the garden would be too long and might bore my listener; on the other hand, to imagine those colors is to experience the wonder of all creation. I hear the buzzing of the bees, the whiffing of hummingbird wings and feel the drift of cool breezes, altogether, they nourish and replenish the beauty of the garden. Sitting on the bench at the center of the garden, I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift to the beauty of heaven. Surely the garden reflects the beauty beyond the river of life. NOTE: I have 2000 tulips blooming in April; and perennials every month thereafter in front of my home. People stop to tell me what they think of them. I have nine different hydrangeas, many asters starting to fill the areas this month, crocusimias bright red loved by hummingbirds, daisies, roses and many other varieties. Actually, the garden and the path leading to the one I described, is the 'imaginary place I went to" as I was in counseling and the counselor had our group, each of us SEE what we chose to see on the path to the place where we met the 'child we once were at the varying ages facing life's traumas', where she had us 'talk' to the child about her hurts, and let the 'child' (self of an earlier age) know from the adult we had become that "I will always love you and take care of you." That therapy was successful for me in putting my life traumas behind me. But the garden became real and beautiful and peaceful as I recovered emotionally from what had happened at different ages of my life. ANN |
| which is easier to write: novel, short story, poem, essay... All are equal when I have the topic or first line. Whether its a message in an essay, a story or a long story called a novella or novel, or a poem, the writing comes after the topic or first line. If it's a historical or biographical poem, I also need to have done my research. If it's a story or novel, I need to know the crisis or conflict or problem to resolve. Only one thing which makes poetry the more difficult, is the matter of rhyming. There are so many words that limits the rhyming. The more difficult is the loooooooooooooooong story called a novel. It has to go on and on with purpose and detail, but it can be done. The most important part of writing is to write every single day. With that habit from day one, a writer will grow in abilities and imagination finding words and phrases to keep writing better as time goes by. So, if you too want to write, then WRITE every day. |
| 8/22 prompt: Are you competitive? When I was sixteen, I entered a speech contest. The name of my speech had to be, "Less than my best won't do" so I focused on my determination to live in that way. "Less than my best won't do" became the mantra for my life whether I was in the classroom, on the basketball court, studying for a college exam or multi-tasking at my job. Striving to do the best I could possibly do, definitely led to me becoming more competitive than I might have been through the years of my life. That wasn't a bad thing but good. It led me to reach deep inside and find strength and determination which I might not have found had I focused only on getting the thing done whether it was when writing a college term paper or completing a fundraising project for my employer, Mercy Medical Center of Nampa, Idaho. Whether or not, I got a 'pat on the back', I could always know I had done my best. If I had pushed forward with more energy and fervor than another person, it was just my way of approaching life. It was as though I had accepted the message of a Frank Sinatra song, "My Way" when he reminded his world, "I did it my way." Same with me, I did it my way, attempted to do my best in all things while living these seventy-five years. Yes, I was competitive: still am.  |
THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE SEER Donna and Stacy married in Hawaii eight years ago. Now they are now visiting family and enjoying two weeks of vacation on the island of Kauai. Donna shivered when they stepped inside the flower-laden grass shack of the elderly Hawaiian woman sitting behind her table on which a frosted circular globe was central. She smiled when they walked in, picked up two beautiful orchid leis and went to place them over Donna and Stacey's heads. "Aloha, my friends. Welcome to my parlor where I will share what may be ahead of you in your lives. I do not know, dear beautiful women, what life has in store for you. I'm as anxious to know as you are." She bowed. "Aloha." She disappeared through the curtained door behind her table. Donna and Stacy fingered the fresh flowers on their leis as they sat on the comfortable chairs available in front of the table. Donna whispered. "I'm almost afraid to find out what she sees for us. I'm sure I want to know what might be ahead, especially because I shivered from head to toe when we walked in. It was like a foreboding wall blocked all movement for a second." Stacy smiled and took Donna's hand in hers. "Honey, it can't be any worse that what we've already been through. I'm hopeful of the future and anxious to hear what it might be." She kissed Donna's hand. "Regardless of what she says, it may just be words and her own ideas; for that reason, I'm approaching this hour without worry, just interest and all the wonderful things we've shared since we met. The Hawaiian woman reappeared and sat across from the anxious women. She smiled to each of them, closed her eyes and slowly waved her hands around the globe and reached out to her clients, then appeared to pull them closer to her as her hands landed on the globe. Silence filled the room. Internally, the frosted globe began to change with flickering lights, colorful smoke gently swirled round and round, a black line streaked from the top and ended as a blot near the bottom; then the globe turned grayish blue and all motion stopped. Donna gripped Stacy's hand and mumbled, "What was that black streak? It was ghoulish." Without taking her eyes from the Hawiian woman wearing a red-patterned muu-muu with flowing sleeves covering her upper arms as she waved them over the globe again, Stacy whispered, "Maybe something very good." She wanted Donna to have positive, welcoming feelings toward everything happening there. The Hawaiian spoke for a few minutes in the beautiful vowels of the Hawaiian language. Her words became a sweet melody which was so beautiful, Donna relaxed and smiled. The woman smiled, then spoke in soft tones as if she was reading the notes in a sweet melody. "My friends, Aloha from those who are smiling on you and your lives and the gentle perfect your hearts have given to each other. You were always meant to be together in that love from the time you spoke your first words and your hearts reached for love. Together as one, you are in the right place for your dreams to come true." She halted the melody. "No life is without critical moments and events. During the coming months, one of those events will dramatically change your lives. It will not be death or separation between you, but will make a change in how you live as well as where you choose to restore your joy after the critical event. I cannot be more specific; however, when it happens, you will know it was the blot you saw on your lives as you looked into the life globe." She closed her eyes again and floated her hands over the globe. At the same time, a broad, beautiful smile filled her face and positive energy filled the room around the three women, the globe and the table. "Ladies, I see excitement fill you both and wonderful energy flows all around you. You are in disbelief at a message you receive. You are blessed by an event which you cannot imagine today nor during the critical happening you will have faced and put behind you. As you truly understand the reality of the message, your joy is unimaginable and your happiness together is your only focus for there is nothing to fear again." The Hawaiian seer opens her dark eyes and her face glows with her smile. She claps her hands together and touches the globe. "Aloha, my friends." Then she stands up, turns and leaves the room through the curtained door. Stacy and Donna look at each other, smile then stand to share a hug and a gentle kiss. To each other they speak, "Aloha." The Hawaiian woman enters the grass shack through the front door, smiles, then bows to them. "Aloha." Having already paid for the reading, Stacy smiled, then shook hands with the seer. "Aloha. Thank you very much. It's been an amazing experience." Donna smiled. "Aloha. What you said makes me look forward to the years ahead. We may not know what will happen, but we know we will get through all of it without breaking inside or apart. Thank you." ******************************** After a few more days with their families, Donna and Stacy boarded the plane with numerous floral colors of leis on their shoulders, and flew back to their Oregon home. "We're home, Honey, and I'm now looking forward to celebrating our ninth anniversary. At the same time, I've been remembering our many gay friends who still cannot have a wedding. I intend to work as a volunteer with Basic Rights Oregon this year to get enough signatures to let the voters have another chance at approving gay marriage. That's going to keep me busy." Stacy took the suitcases to the bedroom then returned to join Donna in the kitchen. Donna poured two glasses of wine. "I won't have time so you'll volunteer hours will count for both of us. The best thing for us, if the voters approve marriage equality, is the fact that the federal government will immediately grant us all rights they now give straight couples, and Oregon will recognize our marriage and grant us rights too. That's one thing we've been missing since moving here for the sake of your job future." Stacy raised her glass for a toast, "To all the rights we and our friends deserve." Donna smiled, tapped her glass to Stacy's, "To a better future for all of us." The following Monday both wives returned to their jobs, energized by their Hawaiian visit and without worry regarding the words of the Hawaiian seer. For several months, life was normal and nothing of significance, either negative or positive, happened. For their anniversary celebration, Donna and Stacy invited friends to join them for a Hawaiian luau with barbecued pork, plenty of fruit and Hawaiian punch, along with appropriate music and decorations on the patio. Most of the friends who joined them were lesbian and gay men as couples. Donna was especially pleased to have some friends from where she worked. The Chief Executive Officer and his wife attended. Having enjoyed every aspect of the Hawaiian evening, their friends left after midnight and the two wives celebrated the remainder of the evening with a final drink before going to bed. Stacy was making hot, spiced tea when Donna walked up behind her, put both arms around her then kissed her neck, just below her ear. "I love you so much, Sweetheart. You were captivating in your grass skirt. You danced the hula better tonight than you did in Hawaii; and that was marvelous." She laughed. Stacy giggled, turned in Donna's arms, and they shared a long, slow kiss. "You're just too much in love to have noticed the errors I made. I guess your eyes weren't on my hands." "You're right. I loved the way your lovely hips swayed Hawaiian style." Donna laughed, took her cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it. During the night, Stacy was awakened by sirens. When she sat up in bed, she smelled smoke. "Donna! Donna! Wake up. I smell smoke. The house is on fire!" Donna jumped to the floor, grabbed her robe and hurried to the door. "The doorknobs hot! I dare not open it." She ran to the window, opened it wider and knocked out the screen. "Climb out first, Honey. Fast!" At that moment as Stacy crawled out, two firetrucks arrived and stopped in the front yard. Both women ran to the sidewalk then turned around. Flames were sweeping through their bedroom window and leaping from the roof. Tears falling, Donna yelled. "Oh, God, this is horrible! All our things are gone. We'll have to start over." Stacy embraced her. "No, my darling. Everything's not gone. We have each other. We'll find our way because we still have each other." She comforted her sweetheart as much as possible. "Honey, this must be what the Hawaiian seer told us about. She said we'd move on. I know we will." Neighbors arrived to watch the firemen work and to extend their condolences for the bad luck that had befallen their neighbors. Living in a motel for the next weeks, Donna and Staci worked with their insurance company for a settlement so they could decide whether to rebuild on the lot or buy a different home in another neighborhood. Since nothing had been saved from their burnt-out home, they knew they had to start over in their ninth year as if they had just married. They bought a newer home across town, furnished it and replaced the replaceable things. Clothing and home décor replaced the former but there was no way to replace their collection of photos and personal mementoes. Donna remained optimistic. "Don't worry, Honey. We still have every memory those things represent. And, we still have each other, our love and our lives. We have more than most people." "I know. I love you so much, Donna. You always see the better things while I worry about other things. You're so good for me." Stacy giggled and reached to share a hug. ************************** Having good jobs in management with Portland corporations, Stacy and Donna had good income; therefore, they could go on with their lives and enjoy everything new in their home. One day a letter came in the mail from an attorney's office in Honolulu. It was addressed to Donna so Stacy didn't open it when she took it from the mailbox. She called Donna on her cell phone. "Hey, Girl, you've got some kind of important letter. Hurry home so we can find out what it is." She made cups of hot spiced tea while awaiting for Donna to get home. As soon as her wife parked in the garage, Stacy poured the tea and waited. After sharing a hug and kiss, Donna sat down and opened the envelop. As she read, Stacy watch a big smile fill her wife's eyes. Donna looked up. "Sweetheart, it's great news. I can't believe it. The attorney writes that the woman who lived next door to us when I was a little girl has died at age ninety; and the good news is, she named me in her Will. It's a cool million dollars! Can you believe that? A million!" She jumped up, embraced Stacy, and they laughed together. When the celebration stopped, Stacy was silent for a moment. "Remember what the seer told us, the good event; this must be it. Can you believe she was right about all she said to us?" "Remarkable," uttered Donna before sharing a celebration kiss with her wife. 1971 words ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
> ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** for showing yourself,not being afraid to do it: You are inspirational.A.J. Lyle: Ann:honoring "OUT IN LOVE". You're helping to open the minds against gay's relationships,and supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday.Keep up the amazing work!"Joy ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
for showing yourself,not being afraid to do it:You are inspirational.A.J. Lyle:Ann:honoring "OUT IN LOVE". You're helping to open the minds against gay's relationships,and > supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday.Keep up the amazing > work!"Joy |
| Day 258 August3rd Prompt Leonardo da Vinci says, " There are three classes of people: 1. Those who see 2.Those who see when they are shown 3. Those who do not see at all Do you agree? I agree. There are people who seem to go about life and never really "see" with their brain, their mind, their spirit, whatever happens around them. They are so focused on the self and what is in their way any day, they miss out on the circumstances around them, what happens, how it affects them. Their own being comfortable in the world is so dense, there is nothing else that is important. They live life 'nearsighted." There are others waiting for someone else to show them what is important. Only then do they lift their eyes, their brain, their mind, their spirit, to consider others and what is happening and whether it affects their own lives. They live their life going to and fro hoping, they are in the right place at the right time, regardless of what happens; just so they survive. They live without really understanding the world and their place in it in relation to other people and creatures. Thank God, there are those who SEE, those who are aware from early in life that happenings near and far have an affect on their lives and the lives of people they care about, as well as unknown strangers around the world. These are the people who constantly know what is happening, how it is changing their place and the world. They look for ways to affect change in order to lift, not only themselves, but other people and creatures to live abundantly. Living the abundant life is knowing about the outer world and the inner world. Most important to affecting happenings is growing within, becoming more than in earlier moments, and doing what it takes to make the world and the space they inhabit, far better for themselves, other people and creatures of the earth. These who truly SEE are the people who reach out in service within their home, their careers, their community, their world. They serve in science, medicine, social services, even politicians when they are truly open to see and understand what is the better good for the most of the world. They serve in their home by sharing, loving, caring, helping, seeking changes to make life better for the people around them. They serve by seeing the differences in people and celebrating those differences, accepting them, and seeking good for all concerned in any given moment. {/b)Because of them, all of us have better lives. Their influence changes the world and have made it a better place for humankind, and all creatures. Because they see, they have compassion, integrity, love; and the "SEE-ERS trust in a Power greater than themselves to lead them to make the best better wherever they are each day. |
| So here's the prompt for the day: You wake up five hundred years and the future and everything is vastly different from what it is now: what is different and what do you do? Five hundred years from now, I don't think the world will look much like it does today. It will definitely be far different from the world we know about five hundred years ago, 1513. That was before the New World was found by Columbus or the Vikings; and maybe, even by the Chinese in their travels on the sea toward the South American continent. Five hundred years from now, I don't believe people will be worrying about the supply of gas and oil. Amazingly new technology will have found new ways to travel and create power to warm themselves and their families. Even as I've said that, I think there will still be people living in the snowy, frigid climates at the north and south poles; they survived in the past and will survive in the future without gas, oil, electricity, telephones, television and computers. By the time five hundred more years have passed, travel in space will be a natural thing to do for people with lots of money, or whatever passes in place of money. Who knows, it may be water that is the exchange for purchasing items needed. I believe the land will be much different in five hundred years because climate changes will change arable areas to deserts and return deserts to arable land. People living in those areas will still be harvesting food in the small areas left for gardening after most land will be covered with houses and people. There will be landlords with great power of thousands of people, not allowing freedom to live as they please. Slavery will have risen its ugly head again as it did in the recent past, less than two hundred years. Happiness for individuals will be at a premium, with fewer happy people because of the difficulty set forth by the landlords. There will still be killings, revolts, wars among religious people with no single religion taking enough power to control the masses. There may still be a Pope, but he will have no power other than what the landholders allow. With water as the greatest valued 'currency', only those with pure water available will continue to survive; unless the Vatican has found a way to hold on to water supplies, their power will be nil. I don't think I would want to be living on the earth in five hundred years. It will be an unbearable existence by most people living on the earth, trying to adjust to the power of a few and the lack of land and freedom.. |
| PROMPT:If a restaurant were to name something after you, what would it be? Describe it. (Bonus points if you give us a recipe!) Hey, I'm so lucky. The biggest restaurant here in Portland told me today, they want to name my mother's delicious banana pudding after me. It will be "Anna's Banana Pudding." I remember how delicious Mother's pudding was, She knew how much I liked it so every time I would drive from Idaho to California to visit her, there would be a beautiful, wonderful banana pudding gracing the table when I walked in. It was her way of saying "I love you" to me and my children. I never took her gift for granted and was always grateful for her sweet way of showing her love. She's gone now but the recipe is still being used. After my youngest daughter married and I moved to live in Portland near her, I would take Mother's banana pudding to her house. Then I taught her how to make it just like Mother taught me; someday she'll share the recipe with her daughter. I hope I'm still alive when that nine year old has her own home and enjoys the gift of her Great Grandmother's Banana Pudding. I gave the recipe in my mother's personal handwriting to my daughter. That in itself, makes the recipe special and that sheet of paper precious. Anna's Banana Pudding 1/3 cup of sugar 2 Tablespoons, cornstarch 1/8 teaspoon, salt 2 cups, milk 2 egg yolks, slightly beaten 2 Tablespoons, butter or margarine, softened 2 teaspoons, vanilla 2 bananas, or three ripe yet firm Many vanilla wafers, cookies First, blend sugar, cornstarch and salt in iron skillet or two quart saucepan Combine milk and egg yolks very gradually into sugar mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring CONSTANTLY. When mixture thickens and boils, let boil while stirring for one minute, Remove from heat. Add vanilla and the sliced bananas and stir gently. Line a 2 quart bowl with vanilla wafers; Pour the pudding into the bowl over the wafers. Crumble vanilla wafers on top. Let set until cool. Enjoy! Can also be recipe for other flavors: For Chocolate, Increase sugar to a half cup and stir in 1/3 cup of cocoa INTO the granulated sugar, OMIT butter. Omit bananas! For Butterscotch, Substitute 2/3 cup brown sugar, packed; for the white sugar; and decrease vanilla to ONE teaspoon. Omit bananas. For Vanilla Cream, omit bananas. |
Prompt: If you could be a “fly on the wall” anywhere and at any time in history, where and when would you choose? Perhaps, most people would chose a time when their favorite religious, spiritual historic figure was alive on he the earth if it were possible to live back in time or just be a 'fly on the wall'. As a woman 'living back in time', I would find it too difficult to chose any past time in history when being a woman would have been better than being a woman in this 21st Century. Today in America, women have more rights to citizenship, freedom and choice in living her life as she desires; at no other time in known history have women had better lives and more options. I have to say, as a woman, I would choose today to live or 'be a fly on the wall'. If I were a man, I would have many marvelous choices in the history of humankind. The males of any family, tribe or nationality have always had the better life, more rights, more choices, and all the trimmings. If I could be the 'fly on the wall' watching something significant happening, I would choose to be in the working lab of Thomas Edison. His discoveries still make life better than perhaps he ever fathomed. I would enjoy seeing the joy on his face the first time the light bulb worked like he envisioned. I would wish I could tell him just how important his discovery and inventions were. Thank you Thomas Edison. |
| Hey everyone, I have recently become addicted to murder mystery tv shows and movies (I would totally recommend Whodunnit? and Clue) so... Prompt: You are given a target you must kill. You can do anything possible to kill them. How do you do it? P.S. This is purely theoretical and I'm not saying any of you would ever kill anyone. Have Fun and Happy Blogging! THEORETICALLY SPEAKING...MURDER I am a murderer. I have been given a target of a man whom I must kill. He is mid to late thirties, slightly plump, slightly bald and he lives in one of the nation's most popular states in a gated community. I've been told I can find him driving his pickup around the community, possibly trailing various "suspects" as he personally defines suspects. He thinks he's a sort of policeman, detective or other "keeper of the safety of other people." He hates certain kinds of people and likes to act on his hatred. He has already gotten away with murder. The way I would kill him would be to reconnoiter the area where he lives in the gated community. I would take the pistol I've purchased and keep it in the holster near my backbone, under my shirt and jacket. I bought a pistol with no safety so I could shoot fast and not have to wait even a moment when I'm ready to kill the murderer. After I would see him driving around in his pickup, after dark of course, I would follow first in my car and then on foot after I call and report him as a prowler to the police. When he is in the shadows of the buildings where nobody can see what's happening, I'll jump him, wrestled him to the ground, then shoot him straight through the heart. I'll yell in a high pitched voice as if he is going to kill me; high-pitched voices are hard for the police to identify. Before anyone can see me, I'll bang my head on the sidewalk or a rock so the police will think he was on top of me, banging my head trying to kill me. I've rehearsed this scenario many times, so I'm sure I can remember it pretty good regardless of how many police or lawyers ask for my story. Of course, they'll only hear my side because the "target", the "suspect" will be dead. I hate his kind of people so am glad to execute him. I know all the laws that could relate to murder, self defense, even the "Stand Your Ground Law" in my state, so I should easily get away with murder. I know this is a fool-proof way to murder targets, or 'suspects' as I like to call them. You see, a man just followed this exact plan in Florida, and he got away with murder. He planned his lies very carefully and was believed by too many people and nobody had evidence to prove him a murderer. He had murdered the only other eye witness. {/size ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
PROMPT:Think of a topic or issue about which you've switched your opinion. Why the change? I was raised by a Southern Baptist mother who became a Christian while her eight month old baby was dying of meningitis. She was a Christian stalwart alll of her life, proud of the fact that she was faithful in attendance and service to her church longer than any other member when she died in 2007. In our alcohollic home, I lived "to please my mother" so she could have one child in the family who did not depart from her ways and beliefs. (Years later, in my fifties, in counseling, I realized how much damage 'living to please others' had contributed to a lifetime of depression." As a Southern Baptist until I was thirty-two, I internalized the social and political 'rights and wrongs' they taught. As an adult, living in the real world, just how often those teachings were 'too damn wrong to hold inside', I began to make my own decisions about social, religious and political matters. They taught very negative, 'put down' information about Catholics, Jews, Episcopals, Pentecostals, and other religions. They taught what we know today as "religious political, conservative' views about government, abortions, homosexuality, divorce (YES, even divorce), prayer in schools, etc. When I began to see the world differently than Southern Baptists, I gained an acceptance of Catholics, Jews, Episcopals, Pentecostals, divorce, abortion, homosexuality, prayer in schools, and all the other issues. I had begun to use my brain and heart to make my own decisions about my life, how I lived, what I thought, what I could learn, how other people were affected by the negative, ugly religious attitudes of conservative "right' churches. By the way, my three siblings gave up on Southern Baptists faster than I did. I was just more focused on pleasing my mother, church and God, than they were. Yes, I consider myself a Christian and a Democrat, but I am also open-minded to the ideas and practices of all people and am willing to NOT judge and put them down as Southern Baptist and their ilk do every day in every way. Yes, I always knew in myself that my heart was drawn to girls/women, but for so long, my mother and church taught I had to damn the idea that I was a lesbian; my true freedom came when I made the decision that being homosexual was not something 'of the devil' , but was the way our loving God creates some of us. Then, I could accept who I am and decide what I, not mother or her religion, believe in society, politics, religion, humanity. All of us should welcome change and choose the avenue that makes for a better world among the billions who live on this planet with us. 'ann |
| DAY 249: JULY 25TH PROMPT Prompt: What writing work of yours are you most proud of? Fact is, I'm just proud that I finally started writing. From college days, I thought about writing a book. Yes, fifty-five years ago, I knew I could write. Problem was, I kept putting it off, decade after decade. Today, I encourage young people who think they might write 'sometime' to START NOW. Had I followed my writing thoughts, I could have been successful as a professional writer. I know I could have, but I let so many years pass before I started at sixty-nine. When I found Writing.Com, I got serious about writing. Other writers here encouraged me. I have a variety of short stories, numerous opinionated essays, biographical writings and poems, in my portfolio. Two of those entries are books, over 65,000 words each. None have been published other than here at Writing.Com. A year ago, I found my genre, the genre that will soon appear as Collections of Lesbian Romance stories. I am proud of those stories which I've written for Questioning, Just Out and other gay individiuals. At the same time, I write for the family members who have a desire to understand homosexuality so they can accept their gay family member as normal and as good, or bad, as they are as individual people whose hearts seek out a person of their same gender. I am proud that my stories are popular and do create understanding and acceptance. My goal for 2013 is to have seven Collections of 50,000 words each as EBooks. By the end of this year, when they are posted as EBooks, I hope readers "out there" will seek and find them. Time will tell as will my talent as a writer. I am proud of staying focus long enough to write my first novel. It's a 70,000 word story of college girls falling in love; is based in my college years, 1956-1960 and beyond. It could have been the story of my life if I had come out as lesbian during those years when my heart was drawn to girls my age. Instead, I married a man two weeks after college; he had pursued me four years. Writing "OUT IN LOVE" was like writing what I might have been and done. My second novel, "A RENEWED LIFE" covers the years of World War II about a retired schoolteacher and a teenage girl living in rural Oklahoma;; a place and time of my childhood. I am proud of both novels and hope both are published for readers to purchase some day. I appreciate today's prompt as it gave me the opportunity to highlight the work for which I am most proud. |
PROMPT:Tell us about the farthest you’ve ever traveled from home. |
| The blog today is quite UNFAIR to all of us who have never been surfing. So our entry of today won't be able to count toward any rewards. Please make sure the Prompts are NOT yes/no questions AND can be written to by ANYONE to be fair to all concerned. If I write off the subject, does it count for anything good and worthwhile. ANN A PATH TO HEALING FROM CHILDHOOD TRAUMA "Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in your memory, as the wish to forget it." Michelle deMonte This path worked for me as I was receiving counseling to heal my inner being from the trauma and pain of child sexual abuse by an old, toothless uncle, and from the life I lived as a child because my father was an alcoholic...he even held us hostage with his shotgun. During the 1980's there was a major focus on Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACOA) and other Adult Children of Dysfunctional Families. I was dealing with serious depression, a physical-medical illness, and too near suicide several times so I went to Joyce Turnboom, Counselor in Boise, Idaho, and, with her help, I found my path to healing. After three years of individual, group counseling journaling and applying the technique that Joyce taught me, I let go of most of the pain and emotional damage that my childhood experiences had caused. After that, I continued to deal with new emotions and the pain through dealing with my negative thoughts and stayed on antidepressants per psychiatrist's prescriptions. After age 65 during retirement, I have been on two antidepressants as usually happens to those who suffer from depression after 65. AND, I BEGAN TO WRITE OPEN AND HONESTLY ABOUT THOSE DAMAGING CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES. I now have peace within and, even though I must continue with antidepressants, I have reached my goal for healing. I write today to share with you, my reader, the most helpful technique that my wonderful counselor suggested. Perhaps it can be the path of healing for you or someone you know. At our first group counseling, Joyce asked us to close our eyes, played soft music and guided us through a visual imaging experience. With our eyes closed and sitting in a relaxed position, she suggested how to relax all of our muscles from our feet to our head by letting a white light shine first on our feet, the gradually up to the top of our head, and to feel warmth from the light. Then, she asked us to imagine ourselves in a quiet place of our choice, perhaps in a forest, a meadow, an ocean beach, or other place that we chose. She asked us to start walking and to enjoy the warmth of the sun, the cool breezes on our face, listen to the birds, see the squirrels and the scenery as we walked. Then, she asked us to see a bridge off to the right, and to walk to the bridge. As we approached the bridge, she suggested that there was a garden across the bridge, see it and walk toward the gate. Then, she suggested that we enter the garden and look around to find that it was our own special garden, with trees, flowers, benches, and whatever we wanted to have in the garden. Then to walk to a special place in the garden, sit down comfortably and begin to look around. She said that we would see a child. Then, the most important part of the imagined visualization: She said to look at the child, and invite the child to come to us; then, just wait to see what the child does and spend some time observing the child, interacting with the child if the child wanted to...... My experience during that visual imagery: I visualized a forest and there were the trees, with the usual growing things you would find in a forest. I walked on a trail and saw little squirrels, a red cardinal bird, the blue sky showing through the trees; and, crossed a narrow bridge to a garden that had various areas: groupings of trees, of flowers, patches of green grass, walkways, benches, and an area of sand. The child who 'magically appeared' in my thoughts was standing behind a tree peering around it toward me. When I smiled and encouraged her to come over to say 'hi', she just moved a little but did not walk toward me. After that, each of us in the group shared with Joyce the visual experience we had and how we felt. She told us that the child we saw was "the child is you" and that "your path to healing from whatever hurts the child had, will gradually show positive and healthful changes that we see as we continue to "visit" the child in the garden each day that we are in counseling and seek our healing. I took her suggestion to heart. I continued individual and group counseling as scheduled; AND, each day I sat quietly and took myself along the path, the bridge and into the garden to 'visit' the child "me" each day. I would visually imagine conversations with the child and 'listen' to what the child said to me during my visit with her. Gradually, the child came to me, sat by me, and talked with me and let me touch her hand... and I always ended my 'visit' by telling her that I would take care of her. I visited her at the age that she was until she was happy, felt loved and felt cared for. Through the days, months, year or years, when I entered the garden and walked there, I eventually me the child, the teenager, the young adult..........always was me at the different age.....and 'talked' with the child "me" about the instances of bad memories and did not leave that subject or that child until she felt loved, at peace and cared for. Two examples: Once, the child was playing in the sand when I arrived and the 'conversation' went to Daddy's shotgun and the fear that it caused. The child was scared and angry. The 'visit' lasted many sessions of 'imagined visualization'. Another time, the eleven year old was wearing the blue/white homemade swimsuit that my grandmother made for me, was sitting in a large oak tree, and was really angry about what the old toothless uncle did to her. That took a lot of 'visits' before 'she' believed I would/could take care of her. I wish I had written details during the time that I did the visualization and dialog with the child "me", but I did not. The last "visits" were very special because the child of all her ages joined together with me and we 'visited' and all of them finally believed that I 'would, could' take care of her and hugged me while telling me that I 'could be trusted to do just that": to take care of her from now on. I have been keeping that promise and TAKING CARE OF MYSELF ALONG MY LIFE'S PATH SINCE THEN. I ask for help when I need it. I am more trusting and calm and so much happier than before Joyce led me to follow that path toward healing the CHILD, of all her ages, WITHIN ME. I wish for you the same healing your heart desires. Doing the visualization included my thoughts. The 'child', me, had the thoughts I probably did have during the traumatic times; and the healing me, gave responses that adult me wanted my Child Within to know: that I understood, cared and loved her. It was like wrapping my arms around the childme, that's what brought the healing to'both' of us. |
| Are you a sports fan? Tell us about fandom. If you’re not, tell us why no? I suppose this 'sports fan' and "fandom" refer to professional boxers, baseball players, football tackles, basketball pros, bicycle racers. If so, then I can say I quit being interested in professional and college sports because they became so focused on money, they quit being sportsman to me; with drugs and future money as the focus, I quit seeing them as valid or 'giving a damn' about sportsmanship. Our schools teach sportsmanship, positive interactions and stances that can lead to positive citizens in their future...until money and image and futures begins to interfere. I hate the way athletics has changed in America and across the world and 'good sportsmanship quit being of value; so I am not a 'fan' in 'fandom'. Even local coaches of young people, became so competitive withother coaches and teams, they quit instilling positive values. My son played in local boys wrestling and baseball. He wasn't the best player but he loved the game. Soon the coaches were more interested in winning against other coaches and the focus was off of the boys and sportsmanship. Lesser players were ignored and the coaches only saw themselves. I grew up being a good player in any sport in which I chose to participate. Through my school years, I was always one of the best players among both boys and girls in softball, basketball, field hockey. In my early years, we had no gymnasium but played the games on dirt courts with boys and girls together, even challenging other rural Oklahoma grade schools; my friends Sue DeArman, Jo Whatley and I could outplay the boys. That was lots of fun. I loved the games and the interactions with other players who had the same goal as I did: to do my best and to be a good sport at all times. That's the game I enjoyed and wish I could still play but age has interfered with my abilities. Besides, there are no sports for those of us over sixty to who might still like to participate. I wish there were such opportunities; then I could say "I'm still a sports fan". ann |
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