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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. |
*FlagG* Did you know that the average IQ is 100, while 140 is the beginning of genius IQ? SO, AT NEARLY 75, I'M STILL IN THE GOOD GROUP AT 127. MEMORY DOCTOR CHECKED IT LAST YEAR EVEN THOUGH MY MEMORY IS TOO SHORT, LESS THAN 8 SECONDS FOR NEW ITEMS IMMEDIATE MEMORY *FlagG* Did you know that 62% of us pop our zits? YUK! YUKKKK! *FlagG* Did you know that approximately 60% of the water used by households during the summer is used for watering flowers and lawns? NOW I KNOW WHY MY SUMMER WATER BILL IS SO HIGH. MY FLOWERS ARE TOO BEAUTIFUL NOT TO WATER THEM. RIGHT NOW 2,000 TULIPS ARE IN THEIR PRIME. *FlagG* Did you know that a typical full-time worker in the US with a four-year college degree earns about $50,000? This is 62% more than a worker with only a high-school diploma.NOT DURING MY CAREER ALTHOUGH THE JOBS I HELD NOW PAY $50000, THEY WERE LESS THAN $25,000 DURING MY EMPLOYMENT YEARS. SO MY S.S. IS LOW TOO EACH MONTH. Now aren't you glad that I remember the weekly trivia after all? *Laugh* Now for a thought-provoking prompt: April 24, 2013: If you were given a chance to know what happens in your future, would you take it? Actually, i found out it really doesn't make any difference if you're a person who lives each day for what it brings and what you can make it bring by your efforts. I was told in a reading that I'd move to a different state after visiting there a few times; also that i had a writing career ahead of me. My response was to forget both since I knew neither had a chance of coming true. A few months after I visited Oregon a few times, then moved to Portland to come out as lesbian at sixty, my daughter who was present at the reading reminded me of what the psychic said!! And, although I had written a poem or two every decade, at age sixty-nine!!! I took a writing course and found Writing.com...........again my daughter reminded me of the psychic reading. What would I have done differently if I had tried to make the events come true on my own volition in my chosen time, maybe it would never have happened or would have been out of sync and failed. I like what you said. just live life. ann Yes, in spite of what's ahead, I want all the future I can get and if I could know all that will happen, I'd take it and still live with joy. If I die before my children do, that's how life's supposed to be. My grandmother lived to 99.5, all of her sons had died first but all of her daughters were still there to mourn for her passing. Now they are all gone; all of the generations before me are gone except for one 90 year old aunt; life is so fleeting. Yes, even if I lose my children first; God knows my strength and will not give me more than I can bear, His promise in His Word. I have shared in the wonderful lives of my three children and seven grandchildren; fun times, lots of laughter; sad times, make lifelong memories; glad times, many still ahead for me. I love living and the adventure every day brings; even if the adventure is in a story I write. Yes, even if I one day suffer loss of my good health; sure, I'll be angry at anyone who causes an accident again that leaves pain; but I will survive and learn more about this wonderful thing called 'living life'. There is so much ahead that will bring joy just as there are things ahead that will bring tears and sorrow. My sweet Molly will, unless my health changes, go first and I will mourn; and I will feel blessed for every day she has given me of love and happiness and laughter even in the 'brittle diabetes' that causes her to puncture herself ten to twenty times a day for blood checking and insulin. Yes, except for one single thing that would create my fear of living on and on...if alziemiers decides to invade my brain, I do not want to linger in front of my children and other beloveds causing them daily suffering. Only then would I do whatever it takes to shorten my life and not live years in darkness without memories and memory of love. God knows my thoughts on that; so do my children. I will not give them the years of not knowing my love and loving ways. Yes, living is my joy, whatever the future is for me. I'll always choose LIFE, MY LIFE. {c:hotpink}{center} What in the end makes our lives seem valuable? I heard this question at a funeral this week. n It is a profound question. I began to wonder how a person can know whether their life was, past tense, valuable? Does it matter if only one person said "yes, her living on this earth was valuable to me?" Would one such response be adequate? Ann P |
April 23, 2013: How much does the weather influence your mood? This is the first year I've noticed the weather had changed me. All winter, the cold was like an allergy; it was so cold to me that I stayed indoors all winter. Now, when I see the sunshine, I go for a walk or take on a project just because it's warm. Thank goodness, I've found writing and WDC so my indoor days have been fun and productive. Cindy, Portland Oregon is having a beautiful spring, a few showers and lots of flowers. Come West!! Weather has never made me depressed or blue. I've always got something to do. If the sky turns gray or even dark My heart still sings like a meadowlark. On sunny days like the one today I stay happy; that's the best way. You're having a Minnesota storm Time to stay inside, try to keep warm. Come to Portland; it's a great place Nice forests and wide open space To enjoy life more and more every year No bad weather to make you fear. Maybe a flood every decade or two So come to Oregon and never feel blue. |
April 22, 2013: Reality TV: Trash or Treasure? Reality TV: I know Survivor is one but I don't know if the so called TALENT shows are considered 'reality TV" Survivor, a reality tv show, is like the book The Lord of the Flies; where a group of kids/teens are on an island and instead of forming a group where all belong, they become a group of thugs and victims with death and ugliness as their goals. In that way, I consider "Reality TV" as trash, nothing is to be learned on survivor except 'how to do in the other characters' either one at a time or by forming groups against each other more than with each other. {c:}Sitcoms were once Treasure in the days of "Father Knows Best", not true like real life at all; just television half hour or one hour shows to "make people feel good". They were the lies of the 1950's and '60's so opposite as to what most life was truly like. There was never a pregnant teenage girl being 'thrown to the wolves' by family and society; there were never drunken fathers who held a gun on their family; there were never juvenile stealing or gunning down other teenagers on the street; NO, but "Lord of the Flies" was the bad and today's shallow, non-teaching, not even funny, mostly mean Reality TV shows are Trash. Regarding the Talent shows like Voice at least give something of value to the winner; but they dump all the others; So while some may seem like Treasures, others are Trash. The event at one of the talent shows in London taught the lesson very well. I hope you have seen the video of Barbara ???last name I can't remember?? who first was brought on stage: a plump, simple, soft shrill like voice, from some small village, answered the basic questions of the judges WHILE the judges and the audience rolled their eyes, groaned, mocked, tried to ignore, laughed out loud, thumbs down, just because of her simple, honest, everyday like, appearance and voice. Then, they asked her to sing, 'so she'd get off the stage': She sang "The Dream", from Les MiserableS as sung by Academy Award Winner for Best Actress, .....; By the time she finished the first phrase of the song with her angelic, magnificently beautiful soprano voice, clear so every word could be understood, on key, held every note perfectly.......by the time the song ended, the audience was giving a resounding applause and cheers; the previously jeering judges apologized for their behavior and praised her, giving her the first 3 XXXYes Yes Yes votes they had ever given. She's gone on, as the talent show win provided, to have a wonderful career. That particular talent show that night was first Trashy in HOW they treated her, then Treasure with their apology and loving acceptance and award. (Find the video; it's still out there; someone knows the name of the show and the woman; but my memory is too bad for me to remember) The trashy Reality TV shows will lose popularity soon; bad stuff soon smells too bad to survive; but Television that is Treasure, building up instead of putting down shows, will continue on and on for decades. ann |
| April 20, 2013: The Tooth Fairy (or Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus . . .) : a fun and harmless fiction, or a pointless justification for lying to children? To call it lying is wrong. To do that, parents would have to avoid most holidays, children's stories, cartoons about squirrels and rabbits 'talking with words', parables and stories of the Bible, and all things that create sweet, fun feelings in the lives of children. The parents who think it's lying are the same ones who think their children can understand about Daniel in the Lions Den or Jesus on the Cross. Children figure the truth far earlier than parents think and they enjoy the knowing, the game becomes theirs as they pretend to believe it 'for their parents' sake. It's a game played when grown-ups want children to laugh, have fun, be entertained and even to deal with pain, as in having a tooth pulled. And, it's part of the game as children figure it out then pretend to still believe; their part of the game being played. It's part of growing up and figuring life out. To call it lying would mean children can't enjoy life just being a child. Children have imagination and learn truths much earlier than parent's seem to think. They know there's no "stork flying through the town delivering babies; yet, they're not ready for some long story about how mother's vagina and Daddy's penis bring about a baby. Let them be children until they figure out as we did by age seven, that Aunt Eva had a big tummy, then a baby, then no more big tummy. What's wrong with that? Why not let them have the same kind of fun as their school friends? Hearing stories about Santa or the Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny does not take away from the reality. They're just for fun and children know that early enough that they're naturally not harmed if they believed the stories for maybe five years; by then they're smart enough to know what's true. |
| April 19, 2013: How are you more likely to make an important decision — by reasoning through it, or by going with your gut? Cindy, I love the trivia words today; remembering the beautiful princess, Grace Kelly, truly the most beautiful woman in the world, according to me. I was young as she was that day she married and always missed having her be in more movies; I loved her, yes it was true love, in her movie with Bing Crosby; the two of them sitting in a boat singing "and I give to you and you give to me, TRUE LOVE." Great movie. Reasoning or 'going with my gut'? I always reason things through and through again. I take a sheet of paper, draw a line down the middle with "Yes" on one column and "No" on the other and over a period of time I write the pros and cons regarding the decision. Then I consider those matters that are not pro or con: example, as I was considering whether to marry the man I married, I included my concern that the "love' I had for him came from my head, not my romantic heart; the opinions of my mother and people at my Baptist church; the fact that he had pursued me for four years; whether I'd be happier as an "old maid" if I chose to keep the secret in my heart that I was a lesbian; and I kept wondering what my father's opinion was...he never let me know until during the sixteen years, he told Mom that "Ann would be better off if she divorced him." Then, I make the decision and live with it; unless harm becomes possible or real; then I'll change the decision by reasoning things through. COWARDLY REPUBLICAN GUNS They say they're true patriots in this free country we love. Cowardly, they vote for guns to kill, and ownership by thugs, gangs, rapists, and those who are mentally ill. Cowards in our country's senate voted for more and bigger guns forty-five Republicans; of Democrats, four, with hardened hearts and craving fame, they voted for bigger guns and more. Foolish puppets of the NRA obediently snap to the rules made by those profiting from every sale, ignoring suffering, death and pain, to give gun rights if addicted to ale. Republicans have their noses up butts not of guns but the 'big guns' of NRA; voted without conscience or any sense, not caring for tens of thousands who die and have no chance for recompense. Never again should any of them win a vote in our democracy, where freedom to live, and share a smile without fear of a shower of bullets killing Americans in every square mile. Voters of America, remember the names of every Senator when marking your ballot on voting day; please don't mark a vote for those who breathed the breath and stink of NRA. Similar Cowards reside next door to the Senate, in the House of Reps when their name's on the ballot in your hand; don't mark your vote for any of those who chose thugs, gangs, terrorists, not our Land. |
April 18, 2013: What do you believe is your purpose in life? Soon, it will be seventy-five years of my life, with more years ahead. At various junctures, there has seemed to be a different purpose. From sixteen to thirty-five, I was focused on my role as a Christian in a Baptist church that taught me I could know "God's Will' ... only based on something related to being a Baptist Christian. So those years, I married a Baptist man who turned out to be cruel; I taught Sunday School classes to teenagers and adults, helped establish new churches in three states as "God's Will", lived according the Baptist rules in church attendance, studying the Bible, tithing 10%, as a 'good Baptist Christian." Then I changed when I heard a Baptist minister tell my friend whose baby girl died at three days old, and the jerk told the precious parents "She died because you've not been faithful in church attendance and tithing". He was damn wrong and his blame on them was ugly. I quit being a Baptist. I became a "Charismatic Christian" who believed and experienced miracles of healing and other things in response to a "prayer of faith." I studied the Bible and my faith in God increased. When my husband almost murdered me three times, each abuse by strangling me came the hour after he had spent two hours in counseling with the pastor of the church we were attending, a pastor who strongly believed 'the woman must be subservant to the husband". The pastor would not allow both divorced man and woman attend his church. I quit that church, knew God's Will was not in it or any church. My faith continues in a loving God who created me as I am to serve through my life as I relate to other people. I was able finally to understand who I was as a created child of God, my Creator, the God who created my heart and all that my heart loved. Finally, while raising children and grandchildren and serving humanity through my work, I became who I truly was: a kind and loving human being who cared for my fellowman and woman as well as loving and guiding my children and grandchildren. I came out publicly as the human person God had put me on this earth to be: a woman whose romantic love was toward other women. I was an employee who cared about others and used my talents to make this a better world for as many as I could. I remained a loving mother and grandmother and a woman who cared about my neighbors and all persons I meet. That is my purpose for living; always was and will be until God calls me to The Other Side, the spirit side of this human life. I live each day with faith in God, my Creator and Guide; I reach out to people who are hurting and encourage those who are doing well; I love my beloved wife, Molly, and my children and grandchildren. I want to leave this earth better than I found it by what I do each day for others. When this body of mine is buried or scattered, I want those nearby to say, "Ann lived a good life, cared about other people and shared the love in her heart with God, her family, her wife and all who knew her as well as many who did not know her name. There is no better way to live than to choose to LIVE A GOOD LIFE. |
April 17, 2013: You wake up tomorrow morning to find all your plans have been cancelled for the next seven days and $10,000 on your dresser. Tell us about your week. Instantly I would have dreams of traveling; Molly, my sweet wife, and I have always wanted to go to Amsterdam and get married there; no, it would not be lawful in Oregon, but it would be wonderful to be married in the first country that said gays could be married. We've talked of this for more than a decade. But traveling would not be possible. Molly is severely ill with 'brittle diabetes"; her blood sugar bounces too high and too low within an hour; if she were to get a hangnail or bad tooth, any kind of infection during the night, it could cause her need for insulin to go to death before she'd wake up; she's not yet approved for disability income, and she's only 53 so no SS for nine years. My low Social Security and other income is too little for our needs; so no traveling. (My work with nonprofits never provided retirement benefits except the ten years with the State of Idaho; so I encourage all young adults: be sure you have a job that allows for definite retirement income for you; be very sure; don't make my mistake.) What would happen though would be that Molly and I would be extremely happy; joyous every day with laughter and joy that we would have a 'nest egg' for emergencies. We stay happy knowing the importance of joy and laughter in every life. We enjoy our delightful pets: Indigo girl, Galileo, Hazy Bunny, Sweet T Bird, Golda, Red, Unique, Owly, Blondie, and two finches. I love watching the finches because they delight and relax me like goldfish of all kinds relax other people. I enjoy flowers and have half my front lawn now as a perennial flower garden; right now it looks like "Little Holland" with tulips. Molly enjoys woodworking, what she learned to love working with her father. I have my children and grandchildren who call me often and Molly has her dear ninety yr old mother; We are blessed. $10,000 would just make life a bit easier. Stay happy; that's the best part of living. ANN I write what I do so that someone else can learn. |
April 16, 2013: If you ran away and joined the circus, what would your role be? Would you run a concession? Would you train elephants? Be a clown? Ringmaster? What and why? Of course, I would be the ringmaster, the one who controls the show. I'm most comfortable if I know what's happening, when, by whom, and all there is to know. Why? Because I learned long ago in my career to take charge as the Director, Executive Director, Project Manager, and similar 'in charge' jobs. I always expected the project, the budget, the schedule of events would be excellent if I 'called the shots'. Being a leader when in projects and events was never something I would have expected when I was a quiet, shy, 'hold back', 'beware of things going wrong' kind of girl as I entered my teenage years. I know now all that way of being was because of the sexual assault at the age of ten and the many times my alcoholic father created havoc in our home. (He was loving and good except when he came home "mean drunk") The changes came in me during my high school years on the women's sports fields where I was a good player and gained personal confidence in who I was and what I could do. I grew into a leader at school and church those years. College was easy for me because I did well when I studied well while also becoming a leader in the college and church organization, Baptist Student Union. My role in that led to my being selected as one of four college students to spend six weeks in Hawaii all summer after my junior year. That built my self confidence. Then I became a teacher with confidence to stand up for myself and my students. I left teaching, very low salaries before the 1970's, and became a community leader. With all that leadership opportunities, why wouldn't I want to be the Ringmaster? |
| April 15, 2013: The most disappointed I've ever been . . . Today I was sorting through writings and memories in a box that may one day be read by a granddaughter or her daughter. In it I found a story handwritten decades ago, a reminder that I should have kept writing way back then instead of waiting until I was seventy. (Title: Answer to Tragedy) Also in the box was the final newspaper of my senior year in high school. An article on the front page reminded me of the single disappointment that cut me to the core in a way I've never forgotten. You see, there was a certain award on which I set my sights when a beloved friend received the award in my freshman year. I was a sportswoman who loved Physical Education, softball, basketball, field hockey and other team sports. I tried to always be a good sport, kind to everyone even when they were on the other team. I so admired Barb Veneman, the winner of the Babe Ruth Award at the end of my freshman year; and I wanted to be like her. All four years I had that award in the back of my heart, desiring to be all that it stood for. Yes, I know I was a good sport and put positive attitudes and sportsmanship at the top of my personality desire as a way to live. One of my friends was Judy Lee, she and I were semester President of the Girls Athletic Association during our Senior Year. Her family had lived through World War II in one of America's camps because they lived in California and all Japanese Americans were moved inward for the years of the war. Days preceding the Assembly and the 'surprise' awarding of the Babe Ruth Award, various friends came up to me and said "Ann, you just have to get the Babe Ruth Award; you're the best." With their encouragement and my great hope, I wished for them to be correct. The teachers were the decision makers of awards; not the students. The day of the Assembly, I was on the stage for receiving a scholarship; something important I was chosen to receive. It made college possible for me. The name of the boy who won the Award was the same we all knew would get it; Roger Fisher; he and I had been elected by our peers as 'Most Athletic" in our class. Then the name of the girl recipient was announced; it wasn't me. It was my friend Judy; yes I was happy for I know it meant a lot to her and her family. Tears gushed from my heart; I slipped away from the stage to go outside and hide until I could get my emotions under control. Later I congratulated her along with Bev Johnson who could have gotten the award too. Then I had to sit through the whole assembly a second time for the second group of students. I was devastated. Years later as a high school teacher, I learned how teachers determine awards; not pretty. They do not acknowledge the qualities the students have regarding awards, "Since ... and ... are getting a scholarship, let's give this award to ...." No heart; just 'balance'. I stood that day and reminded my fellow teachers they were not being fair or considering the importance of the Babe Ruth or other awards in the way they were deciding; that day I understood too much about how awards are given out; another disappointment. This senior in high school was in tears all the long walk home; That evening my father knew of my sadness and disappointment and he gave me the best lesson I could have ever learned. It guided me through all of life's real disappointments these fifty years since then: "Ann, there will always be disappointments in your life; you know your own heart, be happy with that; learn what you can by not getting the award; the lesson will carry you the rest of your life.": Sometimes, losing is the greatest gain. THANK YOU TO EVERY MEMBER OF THE BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS FOR YOUR SUPPORT IN MAKING ME VERY HAPPY TODAY BY CHOOSING ME AS YOUR BLOGGER OF THE MONTH. One of my greatest gains that you have given me such a gift. I'm deeply grateful. ANN Remember Cindy's prompt about taking into your body 'dietary supplements' or herbal remedies? Well, the FDA cannot by Congressional law, inform consumers about such things. Something called DMAA is in Jack 3 D and other energy and dietary supplements; it's from geraniums, is an illegal substance, cannot be banned by FDA, even while nine countries have banned anything with DMAA is still sold in American stores; GNC and other supplement stores are still selling what is causing soldiers and other young men to die of brain or heart problems instantly. Like I said, I only would use what FDA approves. This is why. |
April 13, 2013: Does a messy home (or office) make you anxious and cranky, or is cleaning something you just do before company comes over? I can't believe this: I had written about capital punishment, saved it; came back when Cindy gave us the above prompt, I was almost finished with an honest story then CRASH, everything disappeared. I have no idea what key I hit that cause me such trauma, yes, when you're married to your written words, for them to disappear, it's a traumatic event  don't you see my tears bleeding all over this page.  My mother's perfection in housekeeping was a bane to me and my sister. Mom didn't have nice houses before I was in high school, but she kept the house and yard in perfect condition. So, my sister and me hated perfection.............especially in housekeeping. I remember when Mom was coming for a visit to my big wonderful home shared with a husband and two precious children and a baby girl. I cleaned from the farthest corner in the basement to the last corner upstairs and mowed the lawn and swept the garage and sidewalk and driveway. Everything was perfect; but I was going 'nuts' because perfection is a disease that depressed me. So I put some magazines and the newspaper on the coffee table and left them scrambled, unorganized until Mom came the next day. While there she kept the coffee table and everything in order. Bless her heart, she meant well. In my career days I was darn good at what I did. I was always busy carrying out one project and planning others and supervising my staff and being busy from the moment each morning to the end of the workday. My wonderful boss had his office just across the hall from me. He loved my work and on my evaluation he gave me an EXCELLENT AND HIGHEST RAISE POSSIBLE, then wrote on the evaluation: "Messy Desk". I can have every thing perfect or just ordinary with few items out of place; that's my normal, 'a few items out of place' even now as my writing consumes my day. For the capital punishment prompt, I wrote again, I am in favor of capital punishment, the death penalty whenever a child is the victim. Why should the vicious criminal have a happy life in prison with food, medical care and his pals when his victim was trashed and destroyed? Earlier today I wrote the following: THE BETTER PUNISHMENT On the tenth of June In the light of the moon, A little boy was cryin' While he kept tryin' To open the door Where grain was stored. He tried and he tried, Then cried and cried, But help never came He was locked in the same. Hour after hour He had no power. An old man growled, And a big dog howled, A bird flew by And heard the boy cry. It picked at the lock, While the rusty old clock Ticked and tocked, And the lock fell apart. The boy named Bart Ran from the building of tin And the man in sin. Who hurt the boy, With a broken toy, Who had trusted him; But he turned grim, And hurt the lad, Making him sad, Until cops came, Made Jim lame, Put him in jail. Bart told the tale, What was done to him By ugly old Jim, Who'll hang today, By his neck they say. Maybe the law Should in awe Remove that thing, Squeeze it in a ring Until off it falls, Leaving only balls. Before they hang him That ugly old Jim. WRITTEN BY ONE WHO AT AGE TEN WAS DAMAGED; THE PERPETRATOR SHOULD HAVE LOST 'IT'!  |
April 12, 2013: Certain senses can often provoke a memory. A smell, a sound, an image, etc. Write about a favorite memory that is conjured up by a smell, a song, or any other sense. At the moment my memory fails me; I cannot think of a sense moment when something brought up a memory unless you can count the fact that the smell of rotten eggs makes me remember the years when I would drive between Modesto and Stockton in California: anytime you drove past the sugar factory, you had to endure the rotten smell of whatever happened there that led to the rotten egg smell and sugar; I could never figure out how the two melded. Today I eat too much sugar but stay away from rotten eggs. Images of various kinds spark a thought, a word or a memory of hundreds of writers here at writing.com. Everytime Cindy gives up a prompt with words, we have a sound or thought come into our minds to spur us to write. The Writers Cramp and Flash Fiction prompt us with words. The Quickie and 30-day Image prompt give us an image and expect something amazing to end up in our portfolio. Many other contests and challenges here give us something that conjures up a memory or an idea. If they don't, we're not doing much writing. When I see a young gay man, I'm instantly reminded of the precious son and grandson, Matthew Shepherd who was beaten and strung up on a wooden fence to die before morning light simply because he was a quiet young man who was out as gay in his hometown. That kind of hate still exists in America and the world and must be eradicated by good people everywhere. There is no gay young man anywhere who wants to hurt anyone and he deserves protection by all good people. Anyone who considers herself or himself to be 'good', that's 'God with two o's and no capital letter, all good people together, can stop the bigotry and hatred of any kind wherever they are. Try it today..... |
| April 11, 2013: What's your take on tattoos? If you have one, is there some symbolism hidden there? As you can guess, the 74 yr old great grandmother does not have a tattoo. During most of my years, the only tattoos you ever saw was on a convict in the movies. Yes, my daughter got a butterfly on her ankle, my niece has many tattoos and I paid for and took my grandson to get one when he lived with me. So, I'm not against tattoos for other people but I'll never sit quietly while anyone pokes holes in me for any reason. I avoid pain anytime I can. I can't imagine how I would feel if long ago when I married a man I later divorced for good cause, if I had gotten a big blue rose with his name on it put on my arm, or anywhere else, even where the sun never shines, if that big blue rose and his name was still on my arm. YUK, (again I didn't use the 'effen' word) I've taken care of my skin all my life, wore a bonnet made by my mother as a girl working in the fields, wore a ball cap on the softball diamond, straw hats or other cover while working in the flowers or at a parade. If I cared enough to protect my skin from sun damage, why would I want black or colors of ink on me. Can you imagine how awful they'd look if my skin gets all wrinkly when I'm a hundred years of age? I sure wouldn't want anyone to see it. The handsome face or symbol would look pretty ugly all wrinkled and freckled. For this reason, I encourage all lovely ladies of all ages to not get a tattoo. If I were to choose to be branded, a tattoo is nothing more than a brand like my grandfather used to burn onto the hip of his cattle, if I did want to be branded, the only symbol I'd choose would be the rainbow turtle designed for my by Anselo Jo, AJ, here in the Circle. It would symbolize the way I've lived my life and career: the turtle can't get anywhere unless it sticks its neck out, it has to take risks; I always took risks to have career success, and as a lesbian who came out at sixty, the rainbow colors represent the joy and happiness I've had since feeling free to be who I am. But, wouldn't the turtle look pretty ugly on ancient wrinkled skin of an old woman; I'll be one of those ancient women someday, maybe. Being 'effin' old would be a miracle, but having an 'effin' rainbow turtle on my skin would be 'effin' ugly (still didn't say that word... |
| April 10, 2013: What is the most annoying sound you have ever heard? The most annoying sound that I've always hated is that buzzing fly in the bedroom when I'm so tired and need to go to sleep. When I've heard that 'buzzin' (to keep from saying "effin" since I can't say that word that was always on the walls of school outhouses in the days of rural schoolhouses), back to the buzzin' fly. That sound is worse than any other; just gnawing at my ears, killin' my brain, making a pearl in my brain like the oyster made a pearl, the gnawing against my senses! Yuk! (another word to keep me from sayin' 'effin'). So I turn the light on intending to hear the buzzin fly and see it land. The darn thing (that's to keep me from saying the 'effin' thing) would always disappear. so, I get up and go to the next room and get the fly swatter. I'l get the buzzin' thing (there, I didn't say that 'effin' word again) and take it to the bedroom, crawl under the covers again and turn the light off. BuzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! BuzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! The darn thing (see I avoided that 'effin' word again) was going round and round the room buzzin'. I turn the light on. The fly quit 'buzzin'" and landed somewhere. I can't see the darn thing (there, I didn't say it did I?) After many lights on, lights off, times for an hour, I finally see where the buzzin' thing (I really should say the 'effin' word) and it's on the ceiling near the foot of the bed. Slowly, after getting the fly swatter, I tiptoe on the bed, determining to kill it, the buzzin' thing (I almost said it because of my 'effin' frustration). I reach as far back as i can with the fly swatter, swinggggggggggggg and I killed the fly but kept falling, falling off the bed and bumped my head. The f............................ (oh my gosh,  I almost said it) but I did kill that buzzin fly.The annoying sound was gone.................until another maddening night and it was f..................' troublesome all over again (but I never said the 'effen' word |
April 9, 2013: Tell us if you have any secret ways of finding time for yourself. At my age, there's no need for 'finding secret ways of finding time for myself" and I don't ever remember the need to do that. I've always had the right to read a book, watch a flower bloom, speak a prayer, sit in the sun doing nothing, thinking my own thoughts..I always had the times for myself. Sure, there were demands on my time by spouse and young children; but I still found time to think, dream, or whatever. |
April 8, 2013: If you could choose one superpower to have for a day, what would it be? A superpower? The question reminds me of the years my son loved playing Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. For them it was all a table game; each team, all very intelligent, used graph paper and drew the 'dungeon' step by step and along the way there were beings with various powers to attack or disarm the enemy. I often sat and listened to their games which would go on and on for hours around the kitchen table. (Others played the game dangerously, acting out the powers and battles in secret locations across the nation and world, not my son and his friends. For them it was a brain game. That game and the intelligence it required probably led him to the kind of work he has done and is doing for the USAF since he joined in 1983, almost thirty years. I'm proud of him.  )If I had a super power to do one thing, I would wave my hand and all the alcohol, drugs and knowledge for making and using them, would disappear forever from the earth. They have caused more pain, heartache, deaths, loss, than the wars of humanity's years on the earth, I truly believe. As a child I learned how alcohol destroys families and hurts children all their lives, then my brother was alcoholic, then his son and daughter, and the beat goes on generation after generation. To eliminate such things would increase the brain pool of humans and nothing would be lost daily in the lives of the world. As it is, such a super power cannot remove all that pain, loss and death; so the beat goes on and on and on... Ann ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| ..I WALKED INTO A BAR... It was late afternoon and I was heading out of town, on my way back to Idaho. My Daddy was on my mind that day. Always before, I had driven past the little bar. I think it was called The Hide-away. I walked into the little bar at the edge of town. There wasn't much to it; just a small building sitting by itself on the right side of Highway 99. It was a well-lighted place, plenty of sunlight coming through the window. There were four small tables, a juke box and off to the right was a small bar, maybe six tall barstools waiting for a few patrons to give the place some business. Back in Dad's day, before he died just a couple of years earlier, he'd have been sittin' at the first barstool nearest the door. That's where I sat. A youngish woman, long blond hair, ordinary-looking, not overwhelmingly pretty, but okay, came over and asked me what I wanted. "I'll have a coke and talk about Jack Gross." I propped my head with my elbow and watched her put some ice in a glass and fill it with coke from the fountain. She turned around and set the glass on the bar in front of me. I put a dollar on the bar. She picked up the dollar, then she asked me. "Who'd you say you wanted to talk about?" I said, "Jack Gross." She cocked her head, thought a minute and answered me, "I don't know him. Who is he?" I took a sip from my glass. "Somebody here knows him. Is there a woman in the back office? Go tell her I want to talk about Jack Gross. She knows him." "Okay." She sauntered through the door and I heard her talking to a woman back there. "She said she wants to talk about Jack Gross. She's about thirty years old. Yeah." I waited. I knew someone at that little bar knew my Daddy. He was there nearly every day for over fifteen years. I went there one time and he introduced me around, put a quarter in the juke box then danced with me. I smiled at the memory. A woman about my Daddy's age, if he was still living, came walking from the back room and over to me. She smiled. "Jack Gross. It's been a while since I've heard his name. Who's asking?" Before I could answer, she reached her hand and took hold of my arm. "You, you're his daughter. I remember one time when you came to get him for supper. Your Daddy sure loved you." I smiled. "I knew you'd be here. I don't remember your name, but I knew you'd remember Daddy. I'm Ann, his oldest daughter. And, yes, when I came to get him that day, he introduced us. My Daddy was always proud of me. I knew he was that day. That was well over ten years ago." She leaned her elbow on the bar and leaned closer to me. "He loved you. Ann, after that day, he kept me informed about you going off to college, getting married, having a couple of kids. He had a son he talked about too. As I remember, his son worked with him as a cement finisher." She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip. "That was Larry. He drank right along with Daddy; still does, and some day they'll drink together Over There, wherever that is. My other brother went to college." I sipped my coke and listened to her talk about remembering my father. She had lots to say about him like I knew, she would. "Jack," she said, "was a good man. He never hurt nobody; just talked to people about his work and his kids. Ever so often, somebody here asks about him. I do miss him." I knew she did. After all, she and he were a 'number' when he was in California the year he left his family, five of us, back in Oklahoma. He got lonesome for Momma, so he went back and moved us to Modesto. I was glad he did, because it meant I would get to go to college. Modesto has a college not far from the Hide-Away. I asked her, "You got to his funeral, didn't you?" I knew she had because Momma had seen her and was steaming mad that she came; I wasn't. She ducked her head a bit. "Yeah. I went in at the last minute. I just wanted to see him one more time." I reached out and took her hand and looked up at her. "That's okay. I'm glad you did. I don't know how many of his drinkin' friends came that day; but every one of them, and you too, were part of Daddy's life, and deserved to pay your respects. Momma might not have wanted you there, but he would have. That's why I stopped by today; I wanted to tell you thanks for being there and for adding friendship to his life." She came around the bar to give me a hug. Tears filled her eyes. "Thank you, Ann. You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that; and for stopping by. Your Dad was a good man." I hugged her, then started toward the door. I looked back as she was wiping her eyes. "I've got a long drive ahead of me; but I just wanted you to know I appreciate you taking care of him those evenings after work, while I was cooking supper for him. God bless you. Be happy." "Thanks, Ann. Your Dad will be remembered here for a long time. He had a good heart. Drive carefully." I smiled as I left that little bar. It doesn't hurt to be kind to people, all kinds of people. |
| {center} April 6, 2013: What is your favorite game to play?{/center} At different ages of our lives, different games are played. Some are favorites, all are enjoyed when shared with good friends and laughter. As a young girl, playing hide and seek type games was the favorite of my siblings, cousins and I. One evening while we were at my uncle's home, he taught us a new type of "hide and seek" and called it "Sheep Board Down". From that evening until I was twelve and we moved away from rural Oklahoma, we played "Sheep Board Down" Saturday nights while our parents played "pitch"', a card game. The person who was 'it' had to throw a board, as far as possible, of course. While "it" ran to get the board and stand it by the "sheep pen", the rest of us would hide. When "it" found you, you went into the pen until all 'sheep' were penned; problem for "it" was that a rescuer could slip to the pen, knock the board down, yell "sheep board down" and everyone was free until it was propped up again. My little brother, bless his little 'pea pickin' heart', was always 'it' for a long time. During my teen years in California schools and community, my all around favorite game was softball with basketball a close second. I loved the game and, of course, was a really good player. Usually, I played shortstop so I could be in the midst of the action. I was also a good homerun hitter. I received my softball mitt as a gift on my twelfth birthday; some girls don't want dolls and dresses for birthdays!! I played on a summer Women's Softball Team after my freshman year and coached a women's team during my forties. I loved that game. Now, in my seventies, my sweet wife, Molly, and I enjoy Scrabble. It's a great game for a writer and a challenging Board Game. Learning new words and challenging yourself to spell words with a crazy combination of letters is a real task, especially when your letters are: Q, W, T, M, D, Z, and B. How many words cn you make from those letters before turning all of them in and re-drawing with hope of getting a vowel or two. I enjoy the challenge and sharpening my writer's brain with new words. |
April 5, 2013: We cry for lots of reasons: sadness, pain, fear . . . and happiness. When was the last time you shed tears of joy? Last evening, when I was so frustrated at the deletion of my long blog, I had an inkling the next Prompt was going to be about "when did you cry", so it is. When was the last time I shed tears of joy? I remember exactly, it was 48 hours ago when a friend here on WDC with whom I share respect of who I am, who she is and our faith in God who answers our prayers with healing miracles. She asked me to pray for her specific situation. Back in the 1970's God began to answer my prayers with miracles for the other person. The miracle haven't come to every prayer; but those prayers given the miracle had come to my heart in a very specific way. It may have even been a stranger who asked for, or whom I knew needed a specific touch of God's hand of healing. God moved my spirit to respond; chills would flow through me and the KNOWING would come to my mind and heart. Whenever that awareness of God comes to me, tears fill my eyes; and I know without a doubt the God of my faith, will answer the subsequent prayer "in the Name of His Son, Jesus." So 48 hours ago, when I knew God was expecting something from me, I prayed from the depth of my heart, tears filled my eyes, then joy filled my heart. I cannot explain this, it's just true. Within the hour, an email came from that WDC friend. During that hour, the prayer of her heart and mine, was answered in an amazing way. She didn't realize until I told her that while she was writing her email, I was thanking God for answering my prayer. More tears. Yes: to all who do not believe God loves this lesbian because He made my heart to love Him, women and all persons who call upon Him. ANN Cindy: there was a reason for this prompt; actually, I cannot remember a crying time in my life other than this. There's a reason for that and why I've written it; I don't know the reason but God does. ANN |
| April 4, 2013: Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a child. What became of it? (I wrote this once, hit save and edit, it went to the hated 'like WDC on facebook' instead and deleted everything I had written. I hate that and I don't "like" WDC or anything on facebook. Once I checked it, and the whole WDC on facebook appeared and I couldn't get rid of it. Now I've lost my inspiration with my disgust at that page showing up.) |
April 3, 2013: If you needed it, would you use medical treatments that skirt the edge of legality, such as certain herbal treatments, or medical marijuana (depending on your state)? I tried the medical mj for pain and found it worthless, an aspirin did more for me. Through the years, too many 'herbal treatments' have done damage to people so I never use anything not approved by governmental scientists. They may make mistakes but the FDA is determined to never have a repeat of thalidomide; thousands of people were born with terrible disabilities from that product developed and sold worldwide by the same "scientists" who did horrible things to the Jewish people in NAZI concentrations camps. By the time the Federal Drug Administration learned of the horror of thalidomide, it was too late for thousands of babies in America and around the world. I will never take in to my body any so-called 'herbal or medical or pharmaceutical' product unless it is marked as approved by the FDA. Even then, a tragedy may happen again so why take the chance without the minimal science applied by the FDA. I think the idea of medical mj is a joke being put upon this country by the generations which have grown up enjoying the illegal drug. They have politicized their desire and addiction as they have become adults with political power. I believe future generations will reverse the stupidity of the decisions now being made in numerous states. Just as the alcoholics always 'think' their alcohol is making them feel better and is taking care of their 'depression' and stopping their pain, the mj addicts will eventually be found out for their stupid "thinking". Sociologically, people know that cigarettes cause cancer, and alcohol opens the door to addiction and cruelty in families (I know from my father's alcoholism in my childhood home). Smokers add mj to their lungs saying it's for 'medical' reasons making them feel better, and the NRA says that owning a gun makes a person safe. Just because such things are 'said' doesn't make them healthy or curative of health, life or social problems. Thank God for the Federal Drug Administration and the power they have to keep dangerous stuff off the market. I'll keep trusting them unless I have a terrible illness and only one drug not yet approved by FDA is available as a "trial", only then would I consider using one. |
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