A moment of clarity...

Did you ever have one of those moments of crystal-clear clarity? Thanks to a quote placed on Kenju’s blog, http://imagineomit.blogspot.com/ I was blessed this morning with one of those precise moments in time that was inititated with the appraisal of these words:

 “We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.”

Yesterday my family, whom I have not seen in two and a half years met halfway between Ohio and North Carolina in Beckley, West Virginia to exchange Nicholas so he could spend time with his family in Ohio.  Time, distance and busy lives keep us apart physically but emotionally I had forever perceived myself as the stranger.  There are a plethora of reasons but basically my mother and sister for whatever reasons needed each other more than they needed me.

 I was the youngest of five children and my mother was the product of a gentle soul and a fragile psyche compounded by three husbands who used her as their punching bag in every sense of the word. The domestic violence she encountered occurred behind slammed doors unlike today where it appears commonplace in the media.

However, at a young age the realization that I was on my own led me to reach out to the first of many surrogate mothers such as my PE teacher and Coach, Mrs. Stephenson, or Mrs. Houck my music and choir teacher. My cluster of friends in athletics, choir, yearbook and the overabundance of activities to keep me away from home became my sisters; titles none was aware they held.

Life happened, as life often does. I went searching for my purpose of being out of the state of Ohio; Florida and North Carolina and experienced my share of personal moments of trauma, growth and understanding independent of my family. I was blessed with a wonderful husband and an adoring son while meanwhile, my sister Dawn became a Mama Bear fiercely protecting her cubs at all costs and trudging through a day to day existence as a teacher giving of herself to others.

My mom is eighty-two and continues to golf, read, volunteer and work; awarded top employee of the year. She travels and is active in her church. She has a heart of gold and is filled with compassion. I believe she has made amends with her choices in life and finally realizes she did the best she knew how to do enduring the circumstances she was subjected to; I’m proud of the person she has become.

I’m a true believer that things happen for a reason and the planets line up specifically with one purpose in mind, basically God presents circumstances in our lives for us to continue to learn and grow. My mother and sister are NOT the same people they were when I was growing up; just as I’m not the same person. But it is with this love and empathy we continue to love the changed people in our lives.

I’m not only extremely joyful my sister and my mom are my family, but I’ve learned to love them; with all their perceived flaws and alleged faults because I’ve learned to love me—with all my short-comings and imperfections.



William Somerset Maugham, writer (1874-1965)

A Trip to the Past….and a Tribute!



a high schooler...

 The well worn yellowed pages with a rusty staple clinging to the corner , remnants of ink smudges on erasable typing paper and a musty odor that hovers with aged paper; verification of years gone by…thirty four years to be exact.


Linda Stoner was my freshman and sophomore English teacher who had a penchant for creative writing. Unbeknownst to me she thought I could conquer and triumph this seemingly insurmountable task or perhaps she just sensed my perpetual state of sadness; at least it seemed to me with her soothing words and gentle prompts.

I unhurriedly began supplying her slips of notebook paper that carefully conveyed skillfully handwritten poetry that wouldn’t reveal too much of my inner makings. One by one, she’d return the dispensing of my heart with words of encouragement or suggestions I could do to enhance my writings.

This morning I crawled into our closet to search for the prose tucked away in a 1976 folder displaying multihued ragdolls with blissful expressions. The file was entitled ‘Psychology’ carefully designed to be a disguise for my inscriptions. Upon opening the sleeve, I became twelve, fourteen, and sixteen once again explicitly disclosing those words.

Below are a few examples of those raw early writings and unedited... as difficult as that was:

Poem 1~

Butterflies represent change and growth.
Growth at one’s own personal level and inner self.
A Caterpillar transforms into a butterfly
A butterfly…

Poem 2~

This was dedicated to my Grandpa who had died…
As I sit and watch the ocean
It appears to be calm, but it isn’t always.
I notice the sea gulls, waiting in anticipation
Of something-food, a storm, perhaps a companion.
They watch me closely,
As if in some way, I would provide for their needs.
In the west, the sun begins to set,
Losing its brightness like a burned out fire.
The tide inches in toward me.
I feel it’s closeness as it caresses the rock
Upon which I sit.
The splashes feel like cold tear drops
Against my arms and face.
The sky, which was once blue jeweled with the sun setting
Is turning a dark grey.
Clouds rumbling like the rushing waves.
It’s getting late now.
The tide’s moving again.
I feel cold and lonely as it ebbs away.
Losing the tide’s closeness
Waiting for it to reappears
Soft and calm.


I reflect upon my writing; past and present. Visibly I’m not a world renowned author who is on Oprah’s Book Club or the New York Times Best Seller list; however I AM swollen with pride and gratified with the progression of my past-time.

For this, I thank Linda Stoner, wherever she may be that she challenged and presented me an outlet for the angst of a teenage girl. When My Life as a Dog… is published this spring, I will honor her place in my life; a true beginning... Thank you Mrs. Stoner!

Happy Birthday to me...and Facts of Five!



ahhh, wasn't I cute?



I presume once you hit fifty, and creeping on the other side at fifty-one as I am today it’s only proper to reflect, ponder, wonder, and question your life; at least that’s where I am on this calendar day; November 18th. Like numerous people around the world the birth into my family resulted in a great deal of heartache, distress, and immense suffering. However, in the company of a few superb therapists; Barbara, Martha and Tanya I found healing.


So today, on my birthday I am choosing to spotlight five gifts I’ve blessed myself with and no, they weren’t enclosed in fancy paper with lavish embellishments. They are most extraordinary gifts because they come from within and continue to be years in the making. What's more, aren’t we are all searching for gifts from within? …at least this ‘old lady’ is…

1.) Self-Acceptance: So I finally realized, although it took me this long, that I don’t have the perfect body, need I say more? Although on days, I continue to strive for that elusive goal…Would I like to lose that extra twenty pounds I carry? Do I wish my hair were fuller, more manageable, and more beautiful without 30 or so minutes in front of the mirror? And to add a cherry to the top of the mound of beauty; sore knees, bad back, the gray hairs, hot flashes, restless nights AND wrinkles! Life, you insist on all THAT too? Again, self acceptance- this body has endured and carried me to this day so imperfections and all stay if you must!


Of course, forever getting my hair 'just right!

 2.) Compassion: and all that this entails; good listening skills, empathy, insight, patience, sympathy, blah, blah, blah…Indeed forgive me if I sound like I’m bragging, but this is one of my best qualities. The heartaches have carved a path to be the rock and the giver to others and herded me into my vocation as a special education teacher. I love this job which I can say because I'm on vacation!

3.) Sense of Humor: Don’t we all need the ability to laugh at ourselves and our blunders and bloopers? I certainly do thank God I have this gift…I definitely need it on a day to day basis! And just when I forget this little treasure, God is sure to jog my memory me with an incident of attempting to put the milk in the pantry or forgetting why I walked into a room; ummm, yeah, thanks for the reminder!



I tolerated THIS, didn't I?

 4.) Tolerance: The dictionary describes tolerance as sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one's own. I love my spectrum of friends for their vast diversities and unique contributions to this world. How blessed I am to have all these exceptionally goofy people in my life, and yeah, I’m probably talking about YOU here~

5.) Creativity: Not only do I appreciate my talents of writing, scrapbooking, photography but more so to use this innovation to view the world in all its heartaches of death, disease and destruction and see it for what it is; every individual on this Earth at any given moment is doing the best they can with whatever trials and tribulations they possess. It is in paramount proportions that I remember this in the most basic sense in order to not go mad with the insanity of our world today.

So I conclude with this; with all these gifts, who needs presents?

An Ode to Autumn~

Autumn is my absolute beloved time of the year with its inherent splendor and anticipation of promise.


Yesterday happened to be the day I look forward to the most with its gusts of wind and gentle breezes’ persuading the release of the vibrant leaves onto the land, creating a patchwork of paving stones. A day where the rains antagonize the foliage to carry out cartwheels across the pavement pushing to settle in a carpet of paint; ahhh, this show is worth the wait of twelve months.

In addition to the spectacle of beauty, I make the acquaintance each morning with the cool crisp air that shares the promise of warmth. Within me, I anticipate reuniting with the envelopment of long sleeved coverings tucked away when heat assaulted our breathing space. Most often, this renewed familiarity is accompanied by memories of an earlier period that have slipped from our minds.

I find myself remembering the lovely summer day with my loved ones meandering around the shops at the Oceanside purchasing the soft pink sweatshirt with fair-haired letters; Emerald Isle. A smile hovers as I reach for the burnt orange wrapper titled, Shawnee State Park; a time when our family including our son’s best friend Maddy spent a long weekend surrounded in the fall grandeur.

Moreover, the season brings apple picking, pumpkin carving and leaf jumping. It brings gatherings of family and friends with cooking as its attraction, planning ahead and celebrations.

It’s an occasion of change that insists upon rest and respite before welcoming the fresh, the re-birth of flora and nature’s awakening.

So, greetings to you Autumn and my sincerest appreciation for your offerings and gifts of magnificence!

A Response...

I’ve been enthralled by other writer’s blogs basically because I’m curious OR call it nosey as to what other writers think is important enough to put in writing! What is it that captures their imagination and causes their words to sprawl upon the page?

Through my search I happened upon:

http://imagineomit.blogspot.com/

On Monday, November 15 she blogged about her obsession with boxes and what it signifies about her as a person. After reading her words, I chuckled to myself; one as a result of her honesty and two because I also have a fascination with boxes.

I had to pose the question to myself, ‘What DOES this say about me?’ As I noted on Kenju’s comments, my attraction appears to be with containers on the small side such as the boxes Nicholas’ toddler shoes came wrapped in or the old cigar boxes that have since been replaced by plastic to be used for pencil boxes at school.

I have numerous boxes in my drawers that I’ve accumulated trinkets from prior students that may say, ‘World’s Best Teacher!’ or ‘Class ‘A’ Teacher! There’s one holding letters from old friends and family members; when that art was still in vogue.

Another box-type was actually my mother’s old metal lunch box; a rusty Christmas green that contains old portraits and cards sent by my Dad who is now deceased, and cards from my loving husband and son. I even have one with no lid that contains my son’s baby brush, and scraps of paper with book titles inscribed that I just couldn't wait to read, but I have yet gotten around to reading them.

Back to Kenju’s question: What does all this mean? I presume most of us like to keep reminders of who we are and where we came from. In my case, reading my Dad’s old cards is bittersweet since he was not a good father and we went through an estranged period but reconciled before his death. Things strike a chord and return recollections to the forefront of our minds and if we aren’t ready or willing to re-visit those times, they continue to be neatly tucked aside. At that moment and only IF we are dressed in suitable armor do we allow the memories to stake a claim to our hearts.

The box merely serves as containment; a holding ‘in’ of the feelings; good, bad or indifferent that connect us to a past world, a former friend, an earlier time and place. Therefore, if you are lucky, may you be blessed with many boxes of memories that have molded and shaped your life. I know I feel blessed by my own.

Now what?

Now What?
It appears I’ve just given birth to my second child. No, not literally, but literary is more like it.

This past weekend I went over my manuscript for My Life as a Dog…with a fine tooth comb scrutinizing every single word, syllable, conglomeration of words and phrases to make sure it was perfect! Hah, not sure what perfect means in this case or even if I can strive to have it but the attempt was there nonetheless.

So this morning, while I made a few changes and added some additional details noting that even if I went back to it, I’d probably make even more changes. It’s just the way the process is. But then I wondered…what next? I’d become one-dimensional… it seems my entire world has been wrapped up in completing this book and now that it is ready to be sent away, now what?

It IS like giving birth metaphorically. I nurtured, prepared, fostered and developed the words in preparation for a final product and it has arrived! I am giddy with the prospects! However, at the same time, the apprehension resonates with future possibilities, the success or failure of what has already been accomplished and anything less than the first child, so to speak, will not be adequate.

I think I’ll take my son golfing and fully enjoy his company once again since my mind is no longer consumed (hah! Yeah, right!) with the pages of my book. Perhaps I’ll even add a dimension or two to my daily existence and re-connect with my first born!

It's fun to look back...

When contemplating what to blog about this day, Saturday, Nov. 5, 2011, I thought I'd glance back and see the focus of my blog a year ago.

Imagine my surprise to discover I was completing my book and now, a year later, my book has just been released and I have two book signings scheduled for Ohio in four weeks.

Life certainly is full of surprises!
Enjoy the piece from twelve calendar changes...


Happy Writing?

Okay, so I’m not a realist!


I had to chuckle to myself as a result of my lofty goals. I am attempting to complete My Life as a Dog… so it can be sent to the editor/critique person so the publishing of my book can come more quickly. Currently, I have 24 stories finished and have ideas for at least four more. So it would only make sense to devote all my time and efforts to this ambition, right?

In addition, I joined National Novel Writer’s Month (NaNoWriMo) which to goal is to complete a novel of 50,000 words in one month. That sounds obtainable, doesn’t it?

Well, both would have they not been on variant roads to crash at the intersection of November. I realized this morning when my husband Scott came back from running with me at my usual sitting place, the computer room. He puts his nose in the air and said, ‘Oh, I thought I smelled grits, but I guess not!’

SLAM…’But I thought you wanted me to write?’

‘Yes, but I also want you to pay attention to me!’ Ahhh, so he wants the best of both worlds; as do I. It is not easy taking time away from my family to devote to writing, plus teaching, plus whatever it is I do all day. I’m not a self-centered person so this is not an easy path to navigate.

So what if I want it all? Would anyone like to add additional hours to the day so I have time for everything? What will it be that is put on the back burner? I’m at 6,393 words on my novel for NaNo, and My Life as a Dog is at 14,668. No, I didn’t write all of those 14 thousand words but probably a third of them within the past week which should account for something.

Meanwhile, I have clothes to wash, the floor to vacuum, and bathrooms to clean so if you’re looking for me, that’s where I’ll be; obtaining my lofty goals~