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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. |
| NOVEMBER 11TH PROMPT Prompt: NASA is building a new Voyager spacecraft that will carry the best of modern human culture. What belongs onboard? There is no one 'best' of 'modern human culture'. There are thousands of 'best" because there are thousands of individual countries and individual states or culturally different areas also. My choices would be only from one culture, America in the state of Oregon. I cannot assume my choices would fit all cultures of the world, thus my list cannot be the 'best'. From my culture, I would be sure to take our educational system and all that is a part of that from kindergarten to University degrees. That single item would be enough if used to establish any new human culture in space. ann |
| DAY 356 BCOF November 9th, writing prompt Prompt: How do you handle the conversation topper? You know the person that has always done what you have but it is always more, like you've been to Paris for a weekend, she or he has been there for a week. The person may have endearing qualities but.... Whatdya mean? Nobody can top Annie Girl, even at 75 she's a talker, fast and fluid, with a voice to capture listeners.  I was the quiet one until age sixteen; then I got beyond the painful experiences of childhood and began to be comfortable in a group conversation. And today, I'm fully aware when to make sure I'm not the "topper". From my many writings here, you know I have a lot to say.  My reaction to the conversation topper' is to walk away if the group conversation has changed subjects, or to begin a side conversation with the person next to me. Such a 'topper' cannot be silenced once she/he gets on 'top' until there's nobody left to hear him'her. |
| Prompt: Third Wheel. I suppose this prompt means "How do you handle it when you're the 'third wheel', the 'odd man out', the 'one out of step with the group", or something like that. As a teenager, I was that 'third wheel' everytime I was in my teenage church group of friends who always went to Teen Choir Practice at six every Saturday evening, then in one, two, three, carloads to the drive-in movie paying only one dollar per carload. That was a real bargain. I was always 'odd man out' because my siblings and all the others would have someone to smooch and hug instead of watching the movie. Occasionally, Martha was in the group. She was 'odd man out' because she had high goals and standards: intention of going to Bible College and marrying a preacher boy so they could be missionaries. She eventually did exactly that. I was 'third wheel' because I didn't want dates with boys to mall and kiss for the silly fun or for potential marriage. I knew even then my heart was toward the girls; but that was not possible for lesbian and gay boys, homosexuals, CALLED "homos' or "queers' and other terrible words. I knew I wanted to go to college and I didn't know if I wanted to get married. As it happened, later after I started college a guy came to our church and he pursued me for four years. I did what society and church and parents wanted: I married him two weeks after college graduation. I still regret that decision but am thankful for the wonderful three children who came from that marriage and are dear to me even though I've lived with my lesbian wife for fourteen years. It's never easy being the "third wheel" the "odd man out" regardless of the age or group in which a person participates. ANN ' |
| DAY 354 November 7th, WRITING PROMPT Prompt: Do you listen to music when you write? What kind do you prefer? What would happen to your writing if you switched it up, tell us about it? If you don't tell us why? No, I do not listen to music when I write. If my sweet Molly wants to play some special song for me to hear, I mute the television and give her my undivided attention. Back when I owned a radio, I kept it in the kitchen to listen to Country Music. Now I don't even own a radio and I hate all the advertising in the television stations that play any kind of music. While I write or clean house, I have the television on as background noise. Total quiet is bothersome to me, especially when I'm alone the weeks Molly goes to be with her ninety year old mother, a widow who loves her lesbian daughter very much. I do need total quiet when I am doing the critical and most wonderful thing I'm doing these days: with red pen in hand proofreading my very first book, a paperback of 50,000 words. It's the first copy proofbook of my first self-published Lesbians Rock Volume 1. I need total quiet to focus on all the errors in words, commas, format, and such. What else I know about music, or other activities around me when i am writing, is important because it allows Molly to watch her favorite cooking and real estate shows while not bothering me. I don't know if it's my age or what, but when I am writing, typing the words on the computer screen as the sentences and paragraphs stream through my fingers from my mind where I "see" the action and "hear" the words that belong on the page, I AM NOT AWARE OF THE WORDS SPOKEN OR ACTIONS TAKEN ON THE TELEVISION SCREEN, or the words spoken by Molly or the barking of our little doggies. My mind focuses only on the writing task. I think I have multi-tasked all my life in school, college, my fifty year professional career, all my years; NOW I don't. I wonder why I've changed. Is it my older age? Is it my desire to write everything I can in the short time I still have in this life? Did I ever multi-task? Don't get me wrong. I love music and when I'm driving, especially those out of town or out of state trips, I keep the radio tuned to Country Music, especially the 'old radio' programs of Country Music in the days of Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, and the wonderful music of Anne Murray. I miss their wonderful music which we don't hear anymore. Thank God we can play their tapes in the car radio. Ann ** 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 |
| Prompt: Tell us about the harshest, most difficult to hear but accurate criticism youe ever gotten. Does it still apply? When I was fourteen, my grandmother mocked and remarked words and actions that cut to my core. I hated what she said and did but I took her message to heart. I have never forgotten my feelings of that moment. I was quite a "tomboy" in my young days, always hurrying and preferring the outdoors and activities like playing softball and basketball, hiking anywhere and everywhere, climbing trees and running. I knew I didn't walk softly, gently taking steps, straight back enough to carry a book on my head like my femimine sister could do, I just hurried to and fro. When Grandmother visited us that year and she saw me rushing across the lawn, she got up and said, "Ann, stop walking like your head has to get everywhere before the rest of you do. Not like this, but like this." She barrelled across the lawn bending somewhat at the waist, face too far forward and taking long manly steps; then she slowed, stood tall, took shorter steps, held her head above her shoulders and legs...no bending slightly at the waist. She was correct and I was extremely embarassed and very angry. Even so, I took her words and actions to heart. Thank God I did. If she had not taken time to embarass me, I would never have known what I was subconsciously doing. I've never forgotten my feelings nor my resolve of that summer afternoon. Thanks, Grandmother. Ann |
| Prompt: There was an interesting article on MSN http://news.msn.com/science-technology/why-do-some-brains-enjoy-fear-1 today. What qualities do "scary things" share across cultures or does it vary widely? What do you think? Looking forward to reading your responses. I avoid "scary experiences" and have done so all my life. I don't remember putting myself in any scary situations. Sure, in the 1950's carloads of us teenagers would go to the drive in movies to see hauntings such as werewolves and ghosts but my logical thinking brain knew there was no danger. I would never go to the 'fun house' at the County Fair where scary happenings occurred. I have a theory: I believe the sexual assault as a ten yr old was so scary, I never wanted such fear to pass through my being ever again. My sister and brothers loved scary experiences and took thei grandchildren to haunted houses, according to their ages of course. Not me. I don't like the feeling of fear. I have another theory: I believe people who have lived through civil wars and slavery and traumatic events like school shootings, do not like to be scared out of their wits for fun. They know the true terror and I don't believe they ever subject their minds to a repeat of the fear. Ask a person who was scared spitless at the age of five by a spider on her bed. She'll probably tell you at age 50 that seeing a spider causes a resurgence of the first time. I know this because it is true of my wife. Even when she tries to overcome the fear by catching a spider in a jar to take it outside; hyperventilation takes her breath away. True fear is whole body, every nerve and fiber of body and mind carries true fear for the rest of a person's life. |
| DAY 349: NOVEMBER 2ND PROMPT Prompt: Awkward love triangles. Have you ever been in one? Tell about it and how it was resolved. If not, write a story about one. I've never watched the catfight between two of three persons in a triangle of love and competition. I'd rather think catfights aren't needed, just acceptance that all three are the losers, if not at the first moment but in the end. I'd rather write of another way to deal with cross attraction... Not a triangle of three but of four!! After three songs, slow and fast dancing, Amy and Vanessa returned to their table and found the other two chairs filled by two beautiful fems. "I'm Roxy and this is Natalie." Amy and Vanessa exchanged greetings then Vanessa went to the punchbowl to get drinks for her and Amy. Natalie followed her. While waiting for the other two to return, Amy smiled at Roxy. "Where're you from?" Roxy smiled and winked. "Just a few miles from here. Natalie's new to the area, from Fresno. Amy, you're beautiful in your red and white dress. Would you like to dance?" Amy looks around as if Vanessa might not expect her to dance with another woman. Then she looked into Roxy's face, smiled and got up to take her hand. They went to the dance floor then Roxy pulled Amy close to her white tuxedo and they danced through two songs. Meanwhile, Vanessa stood in line with Natalie behind her, waiting for glasses of the red punch. "Vanessa, isn't this a wonderful night. I've never seen so many gorgeous women in one place." Natalie took hold of Vanessa's arm and leaned close to be heard. Vanessa liked the dark tan across Natalie's shoulders. The temptation to kiss her slender neck was real. Vanessa shook her head as if the shake off the sensual thoughts. "Yes, Natalie. There seem to be more women here tonight than last year." Vanessa placed her hand on Natalie's and smiled. "Have you been here before?" Natalie looked up into Vanessa's blue eyes. "My first time to attend the Ball. Vanessa, your eyes a so beautifully blue. It must be the influence of your suit. So nice." Vanessa grinned. "Natalie, are you flirting with me? If so, it's working. I came with a lovely Amy but your daring flirtatious playfulness is interesting." "Why, Vanessa, I'm just waiting to get a glass of punch." She laughed, "You're right, I'm taken by you." After they received four glasses of the intoxicating red punch, Vanessa and Natalie returned to their table only to find that Amy and Roxy were having fun dancing a fast dance across the room. They set the glasses on the table at the moment the band changed to a slow tune. "Natalie, let's dance." Natalie quickly took Vanessa's hand and the two of the scurried to the crowded dance floor. Eventually, the four of them were back at the table at the same time. Roxy giggled as she swept her blond locks away from her eye. "We're an interesting foursome. Have we really split up? I can't believe it but I like it." She took Amy's hand an looked toward Natalie who leaned against Vanessa and grinned. "Well, have we?" Vanessa looked at Amy. "It's your wonderland, Amy. What do you say?" "I guess we have, Van. You seem to be taken with Natalie, at least by the way you two were dancing." Amy laughed. "I've never been in such a situation before." She looked at Roxy. "Let's dance. Let them figure this out." Roxy and Amy scurried to the dance floor. Vanessa smiled at Natalie. "Are you okay with what's happened here?" "Like you said, Vanessa. I've been flirting with you. You're so good looking. One handsome dyke." Natalie's dark tan skin was so appealing to Vanessa so she put her arm around Natalie and kissed her neck. "This is a crazy situation, but I want you, woman." She laughed and took Natalie's hand. "Let's dance the heck out of each other." The hours passed and the dancing lesbians enjoyed all the excitement of the Valentine's Ball. When "the last dance" was called, the four women were secure in the new relationships that had formed that beautiful evening. The four women walked out the door together, then Roxy and Amy turned one way arm in arm and Vanessa and Natalie turned the other way as they shared a kiss. Mark Twain: "Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't." FOLDER ID: 1854346 (ASR) LESBIANS ROCK collection of stories Stories beautiful, gentle celebrations: lesbian love and affection. all ages, meet, relate by best4writing-Peace2AllLesbians (138) STATIC ID: 1910336 (13+) ACCEPTANCE OF YOUR GAY FAMILY MEMBER PEOPLE WHO WANT TO ACCEPT A FAMILY MEMBER WHO IS HOMOSEXUAL, GAY/LESBIAN, THERE'S A WAY... by best4writing-Peace2AllLesbians (138) |
| Prompt: Take a risk and mix the spirit world with the corporeal world. Create a scene in which a character speaks to spirits or spirits speak to each other. This is not an easy task, I know But I believe in you. Jenny Martin, eighty years of age, loved her Lord and Saviour Jesus and studied her Bible every day from her conversion from whichcraft to Christianity. Earlier, she was known in her small town in America's South. During those days people often went to her for the removal of warts, freckles and ugly scar wounds. Most of the time, they credited her when the warts and freckles disappeared or the scars reduced in intensity. Sometimes she predicted future happenings in their lives. While attending a Billy Graham Crusade while visiting her cousin in Mississippi, she was drawn to trust Jesus as the Son of God and her personal Saviour. From that day she quit performing her witchcraft musings for anyone who came to her for their problems. She would tell them of her relationship to Jesus, God and the Bible and ask them to be converted to Christianity. Instead of her old witch-like techniques, she would give them a copy of the New Testament and tell them she would add them to her prayer list and remember them in her morning prayers. The little rural church in her community were surprised when she became a regular attendee at their Sunday services. On her eightieth birthday, Jenny was praying. "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for bringing peace to my heart and soul. You changed my life and gave me your gentle love. After I met you, I have been happier than I ever was before." As she prayed, a light filled her room and warmth bathed her. When she opened her eyes and saw the light, she fell prostrate to the floor. "Jesus, thank you for revealing yourself. I feel your love in this beautiful warm light. What have I ever done to deserve you visit? I love you, my Lord Jesus." When she looked up, she saw a man dressed in white with a bright golden light beaming over him. "Jesus, you're here. I thought it was just your light, but it's You." He reached for her hand then lifted her to her feet. "Jenny, your faith is strong. Your love for My Father and for me is deep. You have changed the hearts of those who came to you each time you gave them My Father's Word. Some of those people have gone across the world as missionaries to lead thousands to My Kingdom. You have touched more lives than you can know as a woman here on the earth. I have come today to show you the lives you have touched." He raised his hand and she saw what was like a movie screen appear in the room. On the screen were thousands of people looking toward her. "Jenny, these people have invited Me into their hearts because you made it possible for them to hear and understand My message." "I didn't know. I really didn't know." "Jenny, My Child, that's why I'm here today. I wanted you to know. I came to thank you for your faithfulness." Jenny clapsed her hands, looked into the kind face beside her and said, "Thank you, Jesus." He smiled. As she blinked her eyes, He left. Jenny picked up her Bible, held it close to her heart, and prayed. |
| What is the scariest/spookiest (real life) thing that has ever happened to you? For me it was the moment we heard the shotgun: "When that gun went off, it echoed through the hollow and sounded extremely loud." LIGHTNING STRIKES AT HALLOWEEN Halloween in rural Oklahoma was usually a time for tricks more than for trick-or-treating. It was far different in the 1940's than is in the 21st century. Then, costumed children who lived in rural America, could not walk in the dark from house to house with their plastic pumpkins and paper bags. Houses were far from each other and usually located on the hills instead of the downhill hollows between them. Often, fathers would drive the children to certain neighbors' homes to trick or treat. It was exciting every year when my father did that. As kids then, we weren't old to figure out tricks to play on the neighbors. Only the older kids and young adults would talk about their tricks on the neighbors during the days following Halloween night. The primary event in our rural area was held at the schoolhouse on the hill just beyond us. All of the kids would arrive in costume and the adults were judges of the best costumes. The first activity was for all the kids in costume to line up in front of the crowd. Most people knew all the kids first through eighth grades. Parents helped keep it a secret which kids were theirs. The people in the crowd had to name the child behind the costume. My little brother won that contest one year by dressing like a girl. After the school event, out family went to visit with a family with kids who were our best friends. I was in sixth grade that year when old Uncle Lightning was tricked and so were others. While we were visiting with the kids, Mother and Daddy visited with Doug and Ruby Whatley at their house on a hill not far from Paoli, Oklahoma. The adults played cards, a game called Pitch, while the five Whatley kids and four of us played outside in the moonlight or just sat and ate the Halloween treats that we had gotten at the celebration at the school. Late into the evening, Daddy and Doug ask us if we wanted to trick-or-treat old Uncle Lightning, a single old alcoholic, who lived down in the hollow across a small creek. Uncle Lightning was not a relative to either family. Of course, every kid was excited about Doug and Daddy's suggestion. Daddy told us that he would stay at the Whatley house and let Doug drive us down to Lightning's home. All of us piled into the back of Doug's old pickup and he drove slowly instead of his usual thirty-five miles per hour. We were laughing and talking about the adventure and wondering if Uncle Lightning would even be home. It was a dark night; the moon was a true Halloween moon and we couldn't see anything beyond the headlights. In our excitement, we had not wondered why Daddy hadn't come with us. What we did not know was that, while Doug drove slowly, Daddy took Doug's shotgun and walked through the pasture, down the hill, across the small creek and got to Uncle Lightning's house before we did. Uncle Lightning lived alone in a tiny little house by the creek in a pasture. He had gotten his name because of the liquor he used to make during Prohibition days of the 1920's. His liquor was called "white lightning" so he was named Lightning. Daddy and Doug had intended for Lightning to be at home and could easily be awakened when Daddy knocked on the door. They intended to enlist him to play a trick on us kids. That's not what happened. When Daddy arrived there, he knocked several time. Lightning didn't answer the door. Daddy assumed he was in town at the little bar celebrating Halloween so he stood behind the house to wait for us to knock on the door with the gun loaded and ready to shoot.. He planned to shoot the gun at just the right moment to give us the scare of our life that Halloween. When Doug parked the pickup. All of us, ages six to thirteen, climbed out of the pick-up and crawled under the barbed wire fence strung along the property to keep the cows in. The oldest kids raced to Lightning's door. Like kids still do every Halloween, we knocked on the door. There was no answer. Then, to scare us, Daddy shot the gun. A place like that below a hill, along a small creek, was called a "hollow". When that gun went off, it echoed through the hollow and sounded extremely loud. We cried out and started yelling, "It's just us Uncle Lightning." And, we were running back toward the fence, scared to death that Uncle Lightning might shoot that awful gun again. Suddenly, the trick turned on Daddy and Doug. Lightning was at home and in his loudest voice yelled and cussed in his drunken voice, "Who the hell is out there?" As soon as he yelled, Daddy ran toward the fence with us. He knew that Lightning could easily grab his own gun and shoot into the dark at all the people yelling and running. Climbing under that fence was no small task. Being in a hurry, I tore my jeans and am sure some of the other kids did too. My brother scratched his hand on the barbed wire. We had either crawl on the ground under the first fence line, or carefully but quickly climb between the first and second line of wire; or, do like Daddy. He was running so fast that he put one foot on a lower line, then threw the other leg over the top. He was as scared as we were. I still think he ran the fastest. I don't think a herd of kids and their Daddy ever ran faster than we did that night. Later on, when Lightning was sober, Daddy and Doug told them about the trick. Lightning laughed the hardest, Daddy has said, because he scared those two grown men that night. ** 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 |
God, Aparthied and Hitler Did God hear the cries Become heartbroken with tears For those horribly tortured, raped, And massacred in unspeakable ways His beautiful creations? Did He see the hearts blackened Hour by hour, day by day With the ugliness of thought As they destroyed uncountable Numbers of His beautiful creations? Will He turn away when they claim His Will Gave them their guns, devices, and the tools They held in their hands only to inflict, To torture with glee and laughter Numbers of His beautiful creations? Creator, God shed tears that day When His Son, bloodied and stabbed, Was nailed with torturous spikes To a cross because they hated His only beautiful loving Son. So many claimed they followed God Tortured and damned His Jews, And His black sons and daughters For slavery, for even existing In South Africa and Germany. Will Hell await each soul Whose hatred, evil motives, Prejudice, greed, immorality Destroyed God's millions, Those He loved and created? I was sickened as I watched the movie, "In My Country" and learned about the aparthied, the hate of white men of Africa who raped a young girl for fifteen hours to make her "talk" then shot a bullet in her brain, who massacred children and parents for no acceptable reason, who tortured men and women even with a metal iron pole that had a condom on it and used electric jolts to make them "talk", white men tried to eliminate all black people. The white leaders of South Africa for hundreds of years did to black people what Hitler did to Jews in Germany during his reign. I don't see how a loving God can forgive such horror. Everyone must see that movie on television or computer. |
| Promp t: You've been invited to spend a night at a Haunted Castle. What would you pack? Who would invite a seventy-five year old Great Grandmother to spend the night in a Haunted Castle? I hope somebody would because I love having fun. I love to be with people having fun even if they're scaring me so bad my hair changes from white to its original dark brown. Yes, I'd like to be scared that way. Invite me and I promise I won't be the first to run away. No, I'll be the last Gran standing! Invite me and I'll bring my flashlight, camera, and a belly full of laughter. I might bring along some medical supplies for the younger people who faint or stumble. I'll bring along my counseling skills to help the younger ones survive after their haunting experience. I'll bring along my grandmotherly love to calm and assure the younger frightened people who need support. Add me to your invitation list and I'll have a world of fun even when I jump out of my skin; might be a good thing then there would be no wrinkles if I was scared that much. I promise to have a fun and delightful time. I promise to hold your hand if you get scared out of your wits. The Princess Breaks a Curse The Princess was riding one fine day. Fed her horse a sweet bundle of hay. She lay down to rest under a tree. Inside the maiden could not get free Because a gremlin had cast a spell. He had been her prisoner in a cell Until he escaped and cursed at her Blew his breath like a very bad cur And imprisoned her inside the oak Because he was a really bad bloke. The princess awoke and sang a song Only a little one, not very long But long enough to break the curse When she hummed the second verse. "Thank you, Princess. How can I help you? Is there something you'd like me do?" "Just ride with me and I'll take you home. Together we'll find that gremlin gnome And have the King remove his green head, Hang it on a post to cause some dread To all other gremlins who are bad So they'll to be good for my Dad. Never again will the mean ones try To hurt young girls or it's "bye bye." ** 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 |
| Prompt: For many of us the seasons are changing, bouncing unpredictably between cold and warm. Are you glad to be moving into a new season, or wishing for one more week of the I love the warmth of Oregon's summer. Now we're moving into the cold rains of autumn then winter. No, our winters are mild compared to those with freezing, snow,and ice. Back when I lived in California's warm all year, only three seasons, I longed for four seasons. I missed winter so moved to Idaho where I could count on snow and cold. I guess it's my age, over seventy now, which makes cold is hurtful, physically hurtful. Back in earlier times, I enjoyed going into cold swimming pools or wading in cold water or playing in the rain, but now such cold hurts. Strange, I know. During the summers I enjoy being outside and I never complain on the hottest days; they feed my spirit in a positive way. When others around me complain of the hot weather, I smile at my being so comfortable. As a kid in Oklahoma where the moisture in the air is heavy and was bothersome to the adults, I relished in the outdoors. I had to spend plenty of time in the fileds when I was old enough to hoe weeds in corn and cotton fields, pick corn or cut broomcorn, pick apricots and peaches. The heat was never a problem. Come Spring with your warm days. |
| Prompt: How much of a role does social media (outside of WDC) affect your life? (i.e. Twitter, Facebook, etc.) I love WDC and trust adequate privacy but I totally dislike the 'social' sites. Yes, I had an account on Twitter the first week. No More. I have a facebook account but only go there every three months or so tosee what new family photos my brother has posted. He's on Ancestry.com but I'm not. Count me out of all those confusing, advertisment driven sites where my role is to make someone else rich. I seldom send an email or check my gmail. If it isn't purposeful to ME, I don't waste my time there, wherever 'there' is. I prefer handwritten but nobody else does...so even when I send one, none ever comes back. This is so different a time than when I wrote weekly to both grandmothers, my great grandmother, my mother and anyone else who also wrote letters and theirs ended up in my mailbox, even in college. I guess I like the old ways of communicating and I worry about future communications as technology grows, will people lose their voices and have smaller mouths....think about it....evolution loses what's not used and we know the young people prefer to use their hands to communicate...no need to speak or listen when you can text.... when will sex lose out to texting? Don't laugh... |
| Prompt: All of these words were coined by Shakespeare, cold hearted, lustrous, savagery ,swagger and watchdog. Try using these words in a story or a poem. Have fun! SONG COLD HEARTED WOMAN She's a cold hearted woman And oh so wild. I'm a man with a swagger She's carrying my child. She's a cold hearted woman Has a watchdog. I'm her lustrous man Down in the bog. She's a cold hearted woman A savage heart. I want her for my own We'll never part. I love a cold hearted woman She loves me now And likes the beast in me Loving her's my vow. |
| Prompt: You make a new friend. Make them a mix tape (or playlist, for the younger folks) that tells them who you are through song. |
| Prompt: Imagine you are one of the following, 12 yr. old girl, 15 yr. old boy, 23 yr. old working person, 59 yr. old millionaire or a 64 yr. old bee keeper. You live in one of the following locations on a farm, in a mansion, on the street, in a boarding house, or with your aunt and uncle. Pick one person and one location, you are now this person and this is where you live and the diary is yours that was found from 1864. Start with: Some people might not have opened: Write a story or a poem using the information, have fun! I carefully transformed the following information into a DIARY, then failed to properly save it. I don't feel like rewriting all of that so am including the information below about my Great, Great, Great Grandfather Benjamin Franklin Stuard/Stewart/Steward whose wife had too many babies after marrying at 14 so died at 40. He was a private in Confederate Army at age 50 and died of "camp fever" the first year of the war. This memory documented in the anuals of history and discovered my my brother, may even be YOUR forefather's story. Benjamin Franklin Stuard (1808-1870) my Great, Great Great Grandfather was named after THE Benjamin Franklin. At the age of 53 he served in the Confederate Army, 16th Mississippi. Here is his story as written by Robert F. Stuard: The Life and Times of Ben F. Stuard; The Life and Times Of Benjamin Franklin Stewart Following the death of Benjamin Franklin, the charismatic and highly intelligent elder statesman of the new Republic, an outpouring of grief, and a grave sense of loss was felt by most Americans. This lead to thousands of namesakes for the man in the early years of the Republic and the many years since. Thus was born, 2 weeks after the Independence Day celebration in 1808 on the 17th day of July, a new citizen of this great nation who was called Benjamin Franklin Stewart. His father was Zeke or Zecharious Stewart and his mother's name is yet to be discovered. They were, most certainly, farmers. Ben was born in Georgia, one of the original thirteen colonies of the newly formed United States, to a self sufficient family, though not one of great means. His early years were certainly not easy. As a farm child he would learn the business of farming early and well. He would labor from a tender age at a profession, which many of his age did not survive. Diseases, accidents and violence took a heavy toll on the farm children of his day, and few parents could boast of a family free of the specter of childhood death. For this was still a wild and untamed continent of immense proportions, and it would take many men of the caliber of Benjamin Franklin Stewart to settle it. Though no photographs survive him, Ben, as an adult, is said to have been five feet seven inches tall with blue eyes. At the age of 23 years, with a few dollars in his pocket and anchored by the Calvinist ethics of self reliance and hard work, he turned his eyes and his thoughts to the west and never looked back. Now, Moses P. Baldwin was born about 1780 in the state of Virginia, although the British were still convinced this was a just a colony in rebellion. Sometime after 1800 Moses moved to Union District, South Carolina. There he met and married Ann Skains, the daughter of the Revolutionary War Patriot, Adam Skains. He had several children while in South Carolina including a girl named Nancy Jane. By 1824 Moses, bitten by the western expansion bug, sold his land in Fishdam, South Carolina, and headed off to Alabama. He probably arrived in Butler County, but soon moved to the newly opened Pike County, where federal land was abundant. Benjamin, traveling from Georgia, sometime around or before 1830, also arrived in Pike County, Alabama. Ben, early in his second decade of life, and earnest in his ambition to work and make a home, began to farm. As with many young men of his time he would have worked as a hired hand for an established family in the area. He most likely worked for Moses Baldwin, on the Baldwin family farm. There he met a young lady named Nancy Jane Baldwin, the child of Moses and Ann. Ben fell in love with this farmer's daughter, and in 1831 they were wed. She was about 13 or 14 years old at the time. They probably lived with Moses and Ann in the early years of the marriage. Then Nancy became pregnant, and soon, on 18 March 1832, she delivered a son. They named their first child Vardiman Leslie, probably a family name, whose origins are lost in antiquity. Nancy and Ben continued their back breaking labors, with the added burden this new infant. Then, 3 or 4 years later their first daughter, Martha was born. It was soon after this that Ben bought his first land. He could not afford much, but had saved enough to purchase 40 acres of public land next to the homestead of his in-laws. They settled in to build a homestead. By most accounts, a southern family of this time in history could cultivate no more than 30 or 40 acres successfully. Even in later years, the southern farmer lacked the expensive machinery required to cultivate a larger farm. Virtually every part of the work was done by hand. He would have cultivated at least some corn as did nearly all farmers, north and south, as fodder, food and as a cash crop. He would have grown some other cash crop, probably cotton, which would also used to make the clothing they wore and provide money to pay for taxes and necessities. He would have also have had a subsistence garden which Nancy would have helped attend. They would have had a mule, if they could afford it, or, if not, a horse or ox to use as a draft animal. They may have had a couple of hogs, and a cow or two. They were not rich by any standard, save that of the soul. Nancy and Ben had their third child within a year of moving to their new farm. He would be called John. Now, sometime after their move to the new homestead, but certainly by 1840, Ben's family moved to the next county. Macon County was opened about 1832 after the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek, which removed the native Indians from the land. The reason for the move was not known. Perhaps his land was poor, or perhaps he was offered a reasonable profit on it, but for whatever reason both he and his in-laws moved to Macon County. Here, they had three more children, Moses Prophet, named after his grandfather, and Thomas. The families lived here until about 1844 or 45. At that time Ben began looking west again, this time, to the sparsely populated area of central Mississippi. He made up his mind, and once again pulled up stakes, packed up his family and, along with Moses and Ann Baldwin, and two of their other children, Rebecca and John Baldwin, they headed to Mississippi. They settled in Smith County, which had opened in 1831, where a little over 500 other families had settled before them. The land was well watered and covered in native long leaf yellow pine. In 1850 Ben purchased his first land in Mississippi, 40 acres in the far western portion of the county, west of the county seat in Raleigh. Ben continued to farm here and sired several more children; Nancy in 1846, James in 1849, Robert Crawford on 8 October 1853, Franklin in 1854, Mary A. in 1856. His last child was Vincent who was born in about 1858 when Ben was 50 years old and Nancy was about 40. It is believed that Nancy died sometime between 1858 and 1860. She may have succumbed to the dangers inherent in childbirth or one of the multitude of diseases which plagued settlers on the frontier. She does not appear in later records of the time. Sometime around 1855 Vardy married and began to raise his own family. Ben increased his land holdings by 235 acres in 1859, probably to provide for his children, who are rapidly approaching adulthood. Even at the then current rate of $1.25 an acre, this would have taken any savings, this widow of 51 years of age could have accumulated. The life Ben had envisioned for his old age was then dramatically changed by the advent of the American Civil War and the untimely death of his wife. At the beginning of the war Ben is the first in the family to join the fray. In the spring of 1861 he joined as a private in Company H of the 16th Mississippi Volunteers, which is called the Defenders. Why Ben left so quickly to join up is not known. His large family would have been left in the hands of his eldest son, Vardiman. Perhaps Ben was still mourning the loss of his wife, or he was concerned with the possibility of losing the farm he had recently purchased, or the feeling of obligation to the state he had adopted, or perhaps he just wanted to "see the elephant". Probably a combination of all these things, and others we are unaware of, were the cause, but in 1861 this 53 year old man became a soldier in the cause of the Confederate States of America. Ben's service did not last long as, within a few months, he came down with a fever and was hospitalized in Warrington, Virginia. The records do not show the cause of the fever, but do note that it was persistent, and after a couple of months, lead to Ben's medical discharge from the army. The sanitary conditions in the military camps of the day were quite poor and lead to many different types of "camp fever" with causes as diverse as malaria and typhoid. The last we know about his military service is when he receives his residual pay and travel allowance to get home to Mississippi. No record exists of the length of time Ben may have remained ill, or if this illness may have been related to his eventual death. The CSA called on no less than four of Ben's sons for service. John, in fact, died in its service. His death was, as most in this war, not related to battle, but to the poor sanitary condition of the camps. The South in its poverty had no Sanitary Commission, and camp conditions remained deplorable throughout the war. John developed an infection in a leg ulcer, which became generalized and caused a pneumonia, which was the direct cause of his death. Moses and Thomas faired better, Moses serving until after the final surrender and Thomas until the loss of Vicksburg. Vardy, with a young family, and with the responsibility of taking care of his younger siblings did not enter service until near the end of the war, by which time the South was desperate for soldiers. After the war, a property tax was imposed on the farmers in the south, as part of the inequity of Reconstruction. They were to be paid in cash, and with nothing except worthless Confederate script, the lands of many poor southern farmers were sold at auction to speculators and carpetbaggers in order to pay these taxes. Ben, with his large land purchase just prior to the war, was probably one of those entangled in this governmental "Catch 22". Shortly after the war ended Ben again packed up his family and belongings and moved to Texas to start over again. Ben had three of his younger children with him, Robert Crawford, Mary and Vincent. It is said that they walked all the way from Mississippi to Texas. Ben and his family ended up in Milam County, Texas, where we assume he again farmed to support himself and his family. Family tradition and Ben's CSA grave marker show his death to have occurred on 15 October 1870. Ben is said to have returned to Mississippi, shortly before his death, as to be buried next to his wife in Merchant Cemetery, quite close to his old home place in western Smith County, Mississippi. Here he died. He was 62 years old. Benjamin left no legacy of lands, wealth, or power. The legacy he did leave is far more important and far more enduring. I personally know of over 1500 individuals directly descended from this farmer and family man. There are probably thousands more of whom I am unaware. The ones I know of have spread across this vast country in every profession imaginable. They are the true legacy of this great man and I believe they are a legacy he would have been in awe of and quite satisfied with. ** 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". "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 |
| Prompt: How important are clothes to you? Describe your style, if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself. I dress for comfort, for the situation, not according to the reigning style. When I look back at my childhood photos, I still feel the discomfort or comfort I know I felt then. I hated wearing dresses and that's what my mother dictated all year long except on winter days. Noe, when I see thos pictures of me in the "shirttail" dresses, I still feel uncovered, cold and ugly. When I look at the picture of me at twelve wearing girls' jeans (they zipped on the side) with a plaid blouse and corduory vest, I feel warm, comfortable, "me" as I enjoyed being. At that age, seventh grade, there were finally no rules made by my mother or the school, so I wore my jeans every day that year except one; the one was when I wore a green skirt with white blouse because I was in a regional 4-H competition speaking in front of judges. I was truly "me" that year and loved being 'me'. At school I loved joining the softball or basketball game during recess and lunch hour. I was dressed for the activities I loved. I never dressed "to attract the boys" when I was in school. I never 'preened' for the boys and spent energy trying to be their 'girlfriend'. I was truly myself. At the age of thirteen in eighth grade, we moved to California and school rules required girls to not wear jeans or slacks; only dresses, skirts and blouses were required from then through college. So I followed the rules and I was good with sewing and making all my own clothing. I dressed feminine and nicely in the skirts and dresses of my own making. On the other hand, I wore jeans or slacks when not under rules. They defined me as the girl I was and the woman I became. Through all of my adult years, I followed the required dress code for church and work. Of course, the code was "women must dress feminine in dresses or skirts. All those years I preferred jeans, slacks or pantsuits so I was thrilled when church and society changed in the 1970's and women were allowed to wear pantsuits, slacks and sport coats. I no longer own dresses and skirts. I enjoy being able to dress the way I feel dressed, not in short dresses, but in pantsuits, slacks and sport coats. I feel good when I dress the way I feel most comfortable. Thank God, there are no rules but my own. |
| Prompt: If you died suddenly and at random, would you want your friends on WDC to know what had happened to you? When I die, I definitely want my writing.com friends to know I'm gone. I have posted my WILL regarding my WDC account as a b-item which my daughter will share with The Story Master and Story Mistress and she will continue to participate as me with her own identity. She will receive inheritance from me to allow her to continue to find ways to publish my writings so others can still learn from this heart and life of mine. I am convinced that most of my writings have benefit for those who wish to learn from my life, pain and joyful experiences. I have shared the innermost thoughts, joys and painful experiences for that reason. If one parent rescues one child from assault or one person understands the physcal-medical illness of depression, then my living and my writing will not be in vain. It's that one child or adult who benefits from my writing, for whom I write. I write about gays and lesbians so that other people of the world might learn about us and decide we're not odd or monsters but ordinary human beings living in all communities of the world, desiring to be happy and reach the same life goals as all other people. If I can change one angry attitude to an attitude of acceptance, then my living and writing will not be in vain. I cherish the friendships I have made here at Writing.Com. Even though I can not see a face, share a wink, laugh or giggle together with them, I know we have shared of ourselves as friends share, and we are grateful for friendship even when it is on a computer interacting with another person somewhere in the world. I cherish each interaction with my friends here. When I die, suddenly or after a long illness or debillitating stroke, I want my friends here to know and remember me for a moment if I have contributed in any way to make a moment happy or teach from my life. I love you, my Writing.Com friends. Each of you has made a wonderful difference in my life. ANN |
| Prompt: Tell me about a funny, memorable commercial you saw recently. I giggled when I saw the commercial where four children are sitting with a guy at a child's table in a classroom. One little boy tells a "knock Knock" joke in which he says with a deadpan face: 'knock, knock." "who's there?" "Queen" "Queen Who?" "Queen my dishes please." then has to explain why it was funny. Sitting beside him is a little girl who then has the most bewildered expression, mouth open, palms up, eyes wide,...she just can't understand what's so funny. I giggle everytime I see her response in that commercial. As usual, I don't remember what product is being advertised. To me, those are the best commercials. oops! wrong commercial. The bewildered little girl is in the ad about "I'd change my brother to a puppy." Why? "Because then I could take him to school for 'show and tell' and say "this is my puppy brother"; the bewildered little girl just doesn't it!! |
| Prompt: What does success mean to you? To me, "success" is reaching a goal I'ive set for myself. Those days of my adolesence when I was picking peaches, laboring in the orchards of California before I was old enough to work in retail stores or the fruit canneries, success was when I reached my goal of how many forty pound boxes of peaches I intended to pick tht day. The amount varied according to the size of the fruit and trees; the taller trees required me to manipulate a fourteen foot ladder which was far more difficult than a ten or twelve foot ladder. Succes in school was determined by whether I reached my goals of earning only A's and B's in my classes. Even in the difficult Typing I and II classes, I endeavored to make above a C grade. Typing was the most extremely difficult class I encountered in eight years of high school and college. These strong, large hands of mine, so like my father's hands, were not very nimble on the keys of the typewriters of the 1950's. I will say, they work just fine on today's computer keyboards, however. Success in college came as each semester ended and I set new goals for the next. Again my goal was to make nothing less than a B in my classes. I managed the success which I desired, even by making a 'C" in my China-Korean History class where my professor had such a strong foreign accent I don't think I ever understood anything he said. Good thing I was a good reader and understood what I read. All of my life, in every activity and with every job I ever held, I set my own goals. Through my career, my goals for accomplishments for each organization for whom I worked, far exceeded the goals of my 'boss' because I demanded success on my terms. I have absolutely no regrets in any job I ever held because I always exceeded all goals and was successful. No I am not perfect. I did make mistakes along my life's way, but I forged past them to please my own heart and be successful. Success in marriage is measured in various ways by individuals. Those sixteen years with the man who pursued me for four years until I graduated from college won but I knew even then I had set my sights/goals too low for the marriage partner I accepted. If society had not put so much pressure on girls to marry, I would have stayed single. That was my desire but it was doomed as 'failure' by my parents, adults at church, adults in the job scene, adults on radio and television. To stay single back then was to be considered a failure; I knew that so I said 'yes' to the man who had been asking me for four years. In that marriage we had some happiness, some sadness, three precious children, and almost sixteen years until failure came when he strangled me to an inch of my death. I made an instant decision and was successful as a single mother without any financial assistance from the father of my children. My success at earning a college degree led to the success as a single mother. I always encourage young people to set their own goals and make them big enough that they can celebrate success when the goals are met. |
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