Keep Your Poisonous Swab away from MY Canal

On a scale from one to Ten on the happiness meter, I’d say that  I’m a fairly consistent eight. But, unfortunately, the needle of my frustration o-meter’s is perilously close to the danger zone. Why?

My core belief system, my moral code has not only been challenged, but also marginalized by the flip of a narcissistic man’s hand.

Anyone who has read some of my past blogs know who I am and what I stand for. And, what I acknowledge as my truth, isn’t about to change now. In fact, now, that select politicians have dipped their poisonous swab into my ideology canal, the results will come back as they always have, and this time, with a vengeance. I will continue to fight for the oppressed, for the rights of humanity and stand up against tyranny.

It has come to my attention that many folks did not understand the reason for the “Women’s March.” That’s okay. Hopefully, after so much has been written, they now understand. It wasn’t a protest against, but a march for. A march toward a better place for all humans.

How is that a bad thing?

Yes, I heard that somewhere in the world, there were acts of violence at the women’s march. The one I read about was of a pro-life supporter who was spit upon for her beliefs. Outrageous, in my opinion. I am not pro abortion in any way. I would have done (and tried) anything to have given birth to my two wonderful children who have made me a grandmother.

I am for the right to choose. I know, some of you might not understand this, and it’s too hard to explain in this post.

I also believe that some of the signs carried at various marches were “inappropriate.” Yet the ones who carried them had as much right to do so as the pro-life marchers.

Because, in that march, there was room for everyone, Republicans and Democrats alike who believed in the rights of humanity.

Now, here is my frustration. Four million plus people across the world marched to show their support for equality and since then, my mind has returned to vague memories of the sixties and the more prominent ones in the seventy and eighties. So why didn’t the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) pass? The Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) was a proposed amendment to the United States Constitution designed to guarantee equal rights for women .

“Gender equality, also known as sex equalitygender egalitarianismsexual equality, or equality of the genders, is the view that everyone should receive equal treatment and not be discriminated against based on their gender.[This is one of the objectives of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which seeks to create equality in law and in social situations, such as in democratic activities and securing equal pay for equal work.”    (see wikipedia for more info on the 9th amendment to the constitution and also the 14th which finally gave rights to same-sex couples.)

The National Organization for Women, N.O.W., founded in 1966, worked toward equal pay for women. How has that worked out so far?

I recently turned, gulp, sixty. Do I really have to do this all over again?

Not such an uplifting blog post

Even in Texas, we felt the Devastation and sorrow of Mother Nature’s wrath on August 29, 2005. Here is one of the newspaper clippings I taped inside my journal as I wrote about Hurricane Katrina.

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“Hurricane Katrina was the costliest natural disaster and one of the five deadliest hurricanes in the history of the United States. The storm is currently ranked as the third most intense United States landfalling tropical cyclone, behind only the 1935 Labor Day hurricane and Hurricane Camille in 1969. Overall, at least 1,245 people died in the hurricane and subsequent floods, making it the deadliest United States hurricane since the 1928 Okeechobee hurricane. Total property damage was estimated at $108 billion (2005 USD),[1] roughly four times the damage wrought by Hurricane Andrew in 1992 in the United States.[3]”   From Wikipedia.

 

Our Seeds are Growing and We Will Be Watching!

I do believe that all the marchers on Saturday were part of an Oversight committee. We will keep our eyes on the new President, while our hands remain over our hearts.

How I love this piece of art by Louisa Cannell!

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and this t-shirt some friends of mine wore at the march!

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We Did It!!

Unfortunately, due to traveling, I was unable to be part of this glory.  I am so proud of my city’s turnout, including my daughter and granddaughter.  Over 50,000 showed up and made their voices heard.It  makes my heart swell! A Successful march, indeed!

I am also proud of the one million-plus who showed their support from around the world. Thank you!

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all the above photos are from Mike Holp http://holpphotograhpy.com

 

And, no, Mr. Trump, I have no need, nor a desire to purchase your coin. Please stop sending me your emails. I’d rather have LOVE instead.

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Expo? Sure!

Daily prompt: exposure

Had I been alive, I would have attended the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago. There, I would have seen the first of these edibles:

  • Cream of Wheat
  • Juicy Fruit Gum (don’t swallow)
  • Quaker Oats
  • Shredded Wheat
  • Aunt Jemima pancake mix

I’m not a beer drinker so I would have passed on the Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

I would have seen for the first time:

  • the device making the plates for printing books in Braille
  • the first model of the zipper (the clasp locker)
  • an automatic dishwasher
  • and, THE FERRIS WHEEL!!

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The Greatest SHOW in the world is not …

… the retired Ringling Bros. Circus.

The Greatest Show in the World is  witnessing:

the sparkle in an older woman’s eyes when the toddler runs to her with arms wide squeaking, “Grandma!”

the squeals of delight attached to smiling faces of children playing in the park

the pride of a loved one who achieved a great accomplishment

the long awaited reunion of members of a family

… and the list goes on.

But what is the greatest of all, of everything that’s meaningful?

Experiencing these feelings of love and joy.

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Writers, DON’T GIVE UP!

After my first attempt at sending out my latest novel, the agent’s letter came back: Screen Shot 2017-01-13 at 2.13.52 PM.png

So, how many agents should I send my MS to? Am I  Capable of receiving more rejection letters?

Hell, yeah, I am.

Kathryn Stockett’s book, The Help, was rejected 60 times.

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell was rejected 38 times before it was published.

Carrie by Stephen King was rejected 30 times before it was published.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle was rejected 26 times before it was published.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was rejected 12 times and J. K. Rowling was told “not to quit her day job.”

Lord of the Flies by William Golding was rejected 20 times before it was published.

Not giving up, nope, not giving up.

‘Cause I got High Hopes (excerpt)

Next time your found, with your chin on the ground
There a lot to be learned, so look around
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant
But he’s got high hopes, he’s got high hopes
He’s got high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time your gettin’ low
‘stead of lettin’ go
Just remember that ant
Oops there goes another rubber tree plant

-music by Jimmy Van Heusen and lyrics by Sammy Cahn.

 

 

 

 

Franken-Farter

I set down my lunch sack, take off my Mary Janes, and step over a railroad tie that borders the sandbox. “Hey, Scoot,” I say.

“Emmy!” he says without looking up from the hole he’s already made. “Dig for gold?”

“How deep’s it buried?” I ask.

“To the island,” he says, loud enough for others to look over.

If Miss Primrose is in sight, the bullies shut their traps and don’t make fun of him for the way he talks, or the way he likes his blond hair cut into a burr but makes his Mama leave the three red patches an inch longer. “Strawberries patches,” he calls them.

Seven-year-old Janie clambers over and says, “I want to find an island.”

Me too. I want to find an island. Anywhere but here in the Hilltop school yard. Stupid name, Hilltop. We no more sit on a hill than Mama’s home cooking chicken and dumplings.

Janie and Scooter start chattering, so I dig my toes further into the sand and imagine pulling Mama out between my toes. That’s all the treasure I need.

A shadow hovers over me, but I don’t turn when it says, “Playing with retards?”

Scooter pays no mind to the comment and keeps digging for gold.

I look behind me. Frank’s hands are in his pockets. He’s pushing himself up and down by his toes.

“Don’t know how tall you are?” I say.

Frank looks at me like I have an ostrich head. “Huh?”

“You keep bouncing on your toes. You wanna be a ballerina Someday?”

“You gonna play in a sandbox all your life? Even when you’re all grown up?”

“You’re not grown either, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m older than you. So, you’re that girl whose Ma disappeared.” He’s not nice when he says it. “And your daddy’s missing.”

I look toward the seesaw for help. The top hairs of Rachael’s red bob take turns bouncing up and down with Carla’s blond ones. They don’t pay me any mind.

“You’re stupider than you look,” I say. “Daddy’s at work.”

Scooter stops digging and looks up into Frank’s face. “Can’t disappear. Houdini died!”

I love how Scooter accents the words that are important to him. It’s his way of saying something important without having to string a bunch of words together to make a proper sentence. Scooter’s world is filled with magic, and not just because he loved Houdini.

Frank shakes his head and looks at me. “This dimwit your friend?”

“At least you got one part right.”

He puzzle-faces.

“Who’s stupid now?”

“Keep playing in the sandbox, Enema,” he says.

I go back to digging trying my best not to stand up and claw out his eyes. I hear him spit and stomp off.

I want to speed through time so Miss Primrose can ring the dismissal bell. Nothing’s the same, and now it’s worse since Frank-furter entered my life. I think I’ll call him that. No, even better. I’ll call him Franken-Farter. I smile and yell the name inside my head and reach for my lunch sack. It’s gone.

Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket

Featured image photo credit