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Just my opinions and outlook on life |
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The end of 2020 The very first entry I made for The Writer’s Cramp was my best. It tied for the win and I was happy about that but it really made no difference to me. It was a poem written after Thanksgiving about my own recovery from addiction. That was 26 years ago and it totally changed my life. I checked myself into Drug Rehabilitation when I first realized that I might have a problem with substance abuse. I had no idea what changes that one incident would make in my life. When I was discharged, I had a lot of major decisions to make and the poem spoke to how conflicted I still was. The prompt was Closely Watched Trains. It was easy to take that one and run with it. After all, trains take you places and where you go can change your life forever. My journey had just begun. Closely Watched Trains I stand alone in blinding rain, waiting on an unknown train. My future life, a choice to make. Only one I can take. Two tickets lay in my hand, don’t know where to stand. One path leads to a familiar past. Comfort once lost; now peace might last. The other takes me far away. Unknown future, a bright new day? Strangers can become friends. A new life, old wounds can mend. Last time I waited on a train, a filthy walkway, urine stains. Crying frightened, shameful tears, burdened with pain, unknown fears. The smut on me wouldn’t wash away. In pores so deep, I had to stay. If I hung in, worked the steps. A cluttered mess might bring rest. Been running too long and fast, towards a certain fatal crash. Smoke the gin, drink the powder, Alice of Wonderland in troubled water. I did hard work, washed my stains. Princess in a castle, I glow, no shame. I found answers for all asked of me, climbed the Magic Beanstalk tree. Now, I wait on my wish filled train. I pray a light shines true in dark rain. God, I have come a long, long way. I need to love myself enough to stay. By Kathie Stehr 11/27/2020 Learning to love myself enough to make necessary decisions was the key to future happiness. If you don’t love yourself enough then you cannot love other important people in your life. I left a marriage that I knew was over after twenty years. We had two children together and were happy for many years so it was devastating to even think about starting over. Our lives had changed so much over those years. Now, instead of working together, we were destroying our lives and it was affecting the kids. I also ended up leaving my job as a registered nurse because the stress of all of it: the marriage, the job and no time for my children was taking a terrible toll. I had been diagnosed with a neurological disease that was painful and hard to deal with for me and my family. The final straw was taking medication for the symptoms and making the potentially harmful mistake of mixing it with alcohol. Thankfully I only did this when I wasn't working but if I had continued, I would have made mistakes at work and could have hurt or killed someone. Working with the hospital, I tried different areas to go back to work but could not physically do it. I applied for and got on the hospital's disability benefit. This step began a whole new way to live an even better life. I helped with the national organization for dystonia, became a support group leader, I also was a motivational speaker that traveled the country to talk at our national symposiums with physicians and scientists. It was a different way of being a nurse/caretaker by taking caring of me first then other people who needed information and guidance. I loved meeting the people and the symptoms, that I was trying to cover up at work, showed others I was just like them. I could give them hope. I remarried, in time, to a man who loves me and helped me with my volunteer work. He has been by my side for surgeries and many painful procedures. Of course, I have reciprocated for him but it is hard to deal with a partner with physical disabilities. We have been together for over twenty-five years and have a large combined family who love each other. I will be 68 in 2021 and we are enjoying a more laid back retired life. All of us should constantly take an inventory of our lives. How are we living them? Are we serving ourselves or others? I believe we are put on this Earth to help others and we must be willing and honest to do that. I follow the principles of AA and NA and it hasn't let me down. It is progress not perfection, like a marriage. If you make a mistake, you own it and begin again. I hope any future entries I make are as true to my convictions as this one was. Fiction is fine and I enjoy it. All writing comes from the inner well of wisdom that says so much about its’ author. I try to end all my writing on an optimistic note. I want to grow in my writing, sometimes I touch my inner feelings more than others and this was one that did. It was a great prompt. 2020 has been a very hard year for more people than I can ever remember. There are so many people out there that are ill, have lost someone they love, can't feed their families and are falling into the darkness of addiction. I pray for all of them and do what I can. I wish for the judges and all the people that belong to Writing.com that they are at peace within themselves and bring more joy to this planet than they take from it. I know I have to make that choice every day, to spread love and remain sober. I wish you all a happy new year, may it be a much better year for all. Thanks for letting me be a part of this family. Kathie Stehr December 31, 2020 ** Image ID #2267445 Unavailable ** |
| PROMPT November 6th You work alone from home, logged on to your work PC. One day you log on, and start your routine. You look at the clock on your desktop and eight hours have passed, but you have no memory of getting any tasks done. Tell us what might have happened to you during those eight hours. Picking my head up off the desk, I realize I am drooling and my head is throbbing. A phone is ringing, the noise is deafening. I look up at the screen on my laptop and there is nothing on it. The time is four pm and I have a deadline of 6 to get in eight hours of work. There is a cup of cold coffee in front of me seemingly untouched. Last night comes back in hazy memories. Jim’s band was going to play at a friends’s party and he begged me to go. I was already exhausted but agreed to meet him there. I remember this huge stately older home off the main road. There were about ten cars. The bass was loud as I walked up the crumbling walkway and the door was partially open. I walked in and remember someone handing me a mixed drink. There were a couple of people I had met before so that helped me feel more at ease. The band was playing “Cover Me”, a Springteen knock off. They sounded good. It was so hot and I drank this sweet fruity mixture too fast. I don’t believe I had ate anything. I know it had been a hectic day. I looked around for some food. Nothing. I asked someone where the kitchen is. This guy just points down a hall . The lights were dim and I had to push by people. Where did they all come from? Suddenly I realized I needed to find a bathroom fast. I finally find the bathroom and lock the door. My head is swimming, lack of food and a strong drink can do this. Maybe I am getting sick. It is an old bath with a clawfoot tub that has rust stains, a ceramic floor and free standing sink. I grab on to a towel rack, use the toilet. I wash my hands and reach for a towel. Nothing.. There is another door, a linen closet? The next thing I remember is I am at the bottom of a hill of shrubbery. My legs are scratched and bleeding and my clothes and hair are a muddy mess. Somehow I manage to find the driveway and my car. I drive home going very slowly. I set the alarm on my phone for 6am. It was 3 in the morning. What the hell was in my drink? |
| PROMPT November 4th You arrive at work today with five donuts and five coffees for the people who are scheduled to be there. But you have a problem. Counting you, six people are there, and all of you love coffee and donuts! How do you and your friends resolve this? Well knowing myself, I would forget my desire and give it all to the other people. Then I would walk around feeling resentful about it. I didn’t say this was the right thing, I just know myself. Besides, because I am a coffee addict, I probably already had a to-go cup in the car. What kind of work place doesn’t have a coffee machine anyway? When I was working in the hospital, I was on night shift and I lived on coffee. I probably have consumed an ocean of that nectar of the gods anyway. The most reasonable thing to do is either go and get some more or have someone else do it and pay for it. Perhaps you could do some sharing like you taught your children and your parents taught you. There is always a way! |
| We've all heard of people who mysteriously 'go missing'. Tonight, write about a person who 'goes missing'. Someone that you read about in the newspaper or online, but nobody seems to know them, or remember them. The following story was truly the end of innocence for me. It happened 2 days before my 12th birthday (October 14, 1965) and in my city. It happened at Lenox Square, an almost new shopping mall in the upscale Buckhead district. People went there to browse in exclusive shops and eat in nice restaurants. It was well-lit, and even at night it was usually full of people. My Mom had just started working there at Rich’s department store and we used to eat at the S&S cafeteria where Mary Shotwell Little often ate lunch. When I was 16, I started working at Rich's also and I can remember thinking about Mary as I walked alone at 9 or 10pm through the covered parking to my car. Mary was 25, an attractive hard-working secretary at the C&S Bank on Mitchell Street downtown who had been married to a bank examiner only six weeks. She was close to her family and had no enemies. And she was last seen in one of the safest public places in Atlanta. She vanished in an autumn haze of tantalizing clues: flowers from a secret admirer, a bloody car that allegedly had been moved in broad daylight, papers signed after her disappearance. Little even left a trail, stretching hundreds of miles into another state. And with all these clues, sifted and re-sifted by an army of investigators, nobody ever learned what happened to her. It was the strangest disappearance in the history of the city. It frightened the public, embarrassed the politicians, baffled the best investigators. And it left the young woman’s loved ones broken-hearted. The sensational mysterious story was on the local news every night, also on each of the three major public news broadcast in America. Every new clue was spoken about. Police and FBI agents always held to their initial hunch, that Little had been kidnapped and murdered. But they never found a body, never focused on a strong suspect, and most vexing of all, never came up with a coherent theory of what had happened. Conspiracies normally follow a pattern, and so do crimes of opportunity and crimes of passion. But the Little disappearance seemed to defy such rules of logic. It was in a class by itself. A month after the disappearance, investigators got a lead that they expected to break the case wide open, but that instead led them to one of the strangest dead ends they had ever encountered. They learned that Little's gasoline credit card had been used in North Carolina. According to records of an all-night gas station in Charlotte, Little's card had been used in the early morning of Oct. 15, just a few hours after she was last seen at Lenox Square. And the receipt bore what appeared to be her signature. And several hours later, in the late afternoon of the 15th, in Raleigh, the same card had been used again. The same signature was on it, and comparisons indicated it was hers. The disappearance of Mary Shotwell Little became a part of Atlanta folklore. Every few years there would be a bogus lead, sparked more by the media than by police, and the strange story would be rehashed, but the lead would turn out to be a hoax or the product of an overactive imagination. Barring a deathbed confession or an accidental discovery, it is unlikely that Little's disappearance will ever be solved. The people who investigated the case are long retired, and many, like the main investigator Perry, are dead. So are many of Little's friends and relatives. As time goes on, her name will become more legendary, but it will arouse painful recollections in fewer and fewer people. Memories will fade, and only the media clips will remain. On the Facebook page for "If you remember the Atlanta from 40 Years Ago..." , the case is often brought up. But what of the vast police file on the case, one that filled a huge box? It met the same fate as Mary Shotwell Little. It’s been missing for years. |
| PROMPT November 3rd You live in a tourist town. There's always an 'interesting' mix of visitors. But this year they are especially... different. In what way? We are used to charter buses coming into our town of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Many have older people that probably prefer not to drive anymore. Some are from senior communities or churches. They come equipped with their smart phones, walking sticks or canes and some have wheelchairs. It is beautiful here all year round but the fall in the Smoky Mountains is magical with lovely foliage. We have wonderful restaurants, candle making shops where you design your own, homemade fudge and taffy shops. There is a variety of specialty places to buy overly priced music boxes, mountain crafts and the usual cheaper souvenirs. A couple of Christmas shops are always packed this time of year. I am sitting on a bench, just people watching, when I notice this group of elderly people are different from most. They have the same characteristics of most senior citizens. Like myself at 68, they are gray haired, have wrinkles and are dressed comfortably for the cool weather. But these people seem to have a real “spring in their step” as they disembark the bus. No one has to have an assist from their host. They aren’t hesitant in their moving around, all wear smiles and are happily speaking to their fellow passengers. They stand straight and appear more like children in their excitement to explore the town. Couples are holding hands and kissing like teenagers. I overhear one man say they are staying at the ski lodge and hope to rent skis for the slopes and go ice skating. I am very intrigued by these people. Did they come from a Health Spa where they had managed to turn back time? I thought of the movie “Cocoon” where elderly people went swimming in a special pool and felt more energetic and younger. Of course that was actually a sci-fi movie where there were some kind of alien pods in the water. As these lovely folks began to stride up Main Street to walk through stores, I reach out for one of the men that was alone. “Excuse me, Sir, I couldn’t help but notice how energetic you and your friends are. Can you tell me your secret?” He smiled, “You know, we are all from Virginia, a place called “Golden Town”. It is a senior community.” He continued, “we are just your average older folks with aches and pains but something strange happened on our way here. We stopped for an unscheduled kind of Autumn Festival in Cherokee. Now I would have thought Native Americans would be running things but it was a caravan of what looked like gypsies. It was very interesting. I’ll tell you what, I wrote down a little poem about the place. We all drank from this punch and as the hours have gone be by we began to feel better and better. I don’t know how to explain it but I hope it lasts.” Autumn's majestic trees, dressed in dancing leaves; painted with crimson, cinnamon, whisper golden dreams. Aromas arise from black pots, simmering over scented coals. The smell is apples, cloves, spices and tart candy hearts. Stirred by exotic gypsies, clothed in majestic gowns, of scarlet, turquoise, purple velour. Maybe Cupid adds a heavenly punch. It is said if two partake of this erotic recipe of punch. They feel euphoric, a sensual rush; anxious to fall into eternal love. "Darling, It is autumn once again, the wind is rising; the air is wild with leaves. Listen to the magical wind, It is whispering our future. We need to drink once again." |
| Day 3279: November 3, 2021 Prompt: Start you blog entry with the following and tell us what you saw: Once in November, I stood looking out the window ... I have to climb into the time machine for this one and go back to 1971. It is November 6th and I am only 18 but think I am all grown up. I live with my parents, am going to junior college and working full time in retail at Rich’s. I also was just coming from a very serious relationship with a man that was twelve years older. We had been engaged, were planning a church wedding and I broke it up. I wasn't sure. Looking out the window, I am waiting for a certain redheaded guy to drive up in his 1970 black Cougar and pick me up for a party. I am wearing a purple velour top and flare leg pants with boots. My hair is long and I have on hoop earrings. I am wearing Yardley makeup and think I look pretty cool and hip. There is a chill in the air and a warm place in my heart for this special guy. He is my manager and has been my date on several occasions. There are a dozen red long stemmed roses that were delivered earlier on the coffee table. We have been going to lunch together almost everyday for the last three months. He picks me up and we drive to a modest home for a party, an adult birthday for one of his employees. I remember dancing to Janis Joplin, Motown, Marvin Gaye, The Beatles and the Stones. The punch was potent, a combo of a couple of liquors. Finger foods were served. My date had worked all day so he was in his suit. I remember his shirt matched my outfit. Yes, it was a lighter purple and the suit was plaid with a lavender tone. It was the 70’s!! We had a great time together and we were feeling no pain when he suggested going for a drive. I look back and have no idea how we drove from Atlanta and wound up in Anniston, Alabama. Talking to each other came so naturally and we were lost in a world of our own. I felt like someone finally really understood who I was. We checked into a Holiday Inn, made sweet love and spend the night in each others arms. The following morning we wound up at a Waffle House talking about getting married. It all seemed so magical and meant to be, I was floating on a cloud. Surely, this must be what real love feels like. I didn't want to ever be away from him again. Monday morning we were at the courthouse and I barely remember the ceremony except his hand clasping mine so tightly I thought he would break my fingers. The ring had come from a Woolworth’s. We were in the same clothes from Friday. It was an impulsive strange beginning that I realize was partly a rebound relationship. I know now that a person can have all different kinds of love in one lifetime. We aren't the same people in our teens that we are in out thirties or our sixties. The marriage lasted twenty years, produced two great kids and we had many special times together. I don’t regret a single thing. |
| November 2nd You are curator of a museum. This museum has an area of interest to you. Take us on a guided tour of your latest exhibition. The Museum area is New Frontiers in Women’s Healthcare When you come in, you are given a coral colored card with a fictional person’s name and medical condition along with some healthcare history. I believe that women are so busy taking care of families and working, even caring for their elderly parents that they ignore their own health. I see a restful area with mauve, salmon and aqua colors, plush stuffed sofas and chairs. I would also offer juices/herbal teas. Music would be sea sounds or a bubbling brook. There would be information on different forms of Yoga, Tai Chi and Pilates. There will be an area that deals with latest techniques in breast, ovarian and uterine cancer. So many women don’t know how to do a proper self breast exam, whether they need a mammogram or ultrasound. They don’t know about reconstruction breast surgery and how a malignant tumor can be removed with a lumpectomy and follow by radiation so no mastectomy is needed. Ovarian cancer used to be death sentence and there are new chemotherapies, immunotherapies that are used now. I would have professionals trained to personally speak with people and make recommendations. Another area will deal with advances in infertility treatments. It would be very hands on with video screens answering any questions you might have about medications, procedures and how to pick a specialist. There will also be the latest in Labor and Delivery Suites and an NICU nursery setup. I would personally include reproductive health with all options including abortion and what is involved. Good nutrition at each stage of life and exercise plus alternative therapies would be addressed. There would also be an area that deals with domestic abuse and a rape crisis center setup. After experiencing the center you can test yourself on what you learned about the medical condition that is on your card, if you want, at a computer station. A gift bag would have a protein bar, soothing herbal lotion for skin and a variety of herbal tea bags also a discount coupon for a massage. Does anyone want to come by? |
| Day 3278: November 2, 2021 Prompt: "Writing is the most fun you can have by yourself." - Terry Pratchett Yes, no, maybe. What do you think? That depends on your muse, I think. If it is cooperating and the writing flows, it is awesome. I am an amateur writer, have never even tried to get published. I admire those who study the craft and work at it. If I had to depend on my writing skills for a living, I would starve. Actually the most fun I have by myself is reading a book that has captured my interest sipping a cup pf mocha cappuccino. Listening or dancing to some great music (rock from the 70s preferably) is up there also. I truly do enjoy my own company most of the time. It keeps me out of trouble. There are a couple other fun solitary activities I can think of but will keep those to myself. Have a wonderful creative day! |
| We all have possessions of some type. Tell us five possessions you can’t live without, and why they are on this list. 1. I have to say my monthly social security and pension check. That sounds so terrible but I couldn’t survive without having the money to buy food, pay utilities and keep a roof over my head. I am grateful to have them. 2. My Persian kitty Taz that gives me so much joy. I would say my husband but he isn’t a possession. 3. My home, nestled in the trees, with the squirrels and wildlife all around. I love sitting across from the lake and watching the sunrises and sunsets. 4. My laptop which houses my books and music. Of course, WDC is essential along with staying in touch with friends and family. 5. My photo albums that keep my memories alive of a wonderful life. |
| Prompt: Today is National Author's Day. Who is your favorite author? Which book by that author is your favorite? Do you have a favorite quote from the author or the book? I admire so many authors, it is hard to pick just one. I am going to say Pat Conroy because he is no longer with us and he is one of my top ten. I really loved his first book “The Water is Wide” about his experience teaching.on an island that is hauntingly beautiful. There are only a few families on Yamacraw Island, America is a world away. People there live proudly from the fruits of the sea. But now the water is unsafe. Waste from industry threatens their livelihood. They have to learn a new life but their only school doesn’t have a teacher so a young man comes to help them and they teach him about living. The subject matter from the book really resonates today with all the arguing about education and how we have ruined our own natural resources, endangering our planet. Two quotes from the book that resonate: “We Shall Overcome” by Pete Seeger. I remember that moment with crystal clarity and I comprehend it as a turning point in my life: a moment terrible in its illumination of a toad in my soul, an ugliness so pervasive that it seemed my insides were vomit.” ― Pat Conroy “It was funny how we thought education to be the great gilded key which would solve all problems, eliminate all poverty and disease, eradicate differences between social classes, and bring the children of okra-planters up to par with the children of emperors.” ― Pat Conroy |
| “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”― Anais Nin Is there anything sweeter than to relive the high-points of your life in a poem or story? I know that I have used the births of my children, my experiences with love, fun and sexual healing in my writing. It is almost as delightful as the real moments. The wonderful truth about memory is that you tend to remake your story into something even better and that is okay. After all, it is your story so you are the narrator. A Sweet Symphony That song, do we dare take a dangerous chance slip our skins, roll back years hold each other so close again? No words needed our bodies speak. Heat beneath his hands we always fit together in sweet familiar lands. His scent for two decades sends chills up my spine, Chivas, Omegas , Calvin Klein. Nights born of passion his brown eyes seek mine. Twirling on the dance floor, possessive hands pull me close. Crazy work hours, ambitions, egos, excuses. No love notes, candy, or flowers. I melt like honey sliding down a jar. Lips whisper as before; "Do you remember, Punkin?" He reminds me of fire bursts as gentle hands stroke me first. I will always have memories: satin nights, secrets in sheets. Family times no one can replace. Over years, we both agreed we needed to break free. Looking back, it was meant to be. Not merely a three minute melody. A fully formed, carefully imagined exquisite symphony. By Kathie Stehr Dedicated to my first husband who died in 2001. |
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