Getting better

Chalk on the sidewalk.
Castles in the sandbox
Dinner eaten and enjoyed
Ah, they are getting better by the minute!

I am lying in bed.
Feel seasick.
No keep the fan on!
I am hot then cold.
I am thirsty, but nothing quenches.

My man is watching the kids.
I have taken three naps today.
I am still exhausted.
My man grilled dinner outside.
I enjoy peace.
A gift that G gives to me when I need it.

My family.
Warm cuddles.
Hearty hugs.
Endless smiles.
Need anything, Mommy?
No, you just gave it to me, thank you.

A Priceless Email

Click on the link and visit this page in Lightfeather's blog:
http://lightfeather111.blogspot.com/2005/04/priceless-e-mail.html

You are never alone~God is near...

This is a story that I found on another blog. It was taken from a devotional site. You will like it. I guarantee it. Grab a box of Kleenex-you have been forewarned:

I was walking down a dimly lit street late one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric.

Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked. Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety, and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone and call the police?

Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life. I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic.

I don't know where I found the moral courage and physical strength--but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped.

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a distance.

"It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran away. You're safe now." There was a long pause and then I heard the words, uttered in wonder and in amazement. "Dad, is that you?" And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.

My sick brood

Ah, my poor young 'uns. They are running high fevers. Poor A, she coughs so much, that it is gagging her to the point that she isn't holding anything down...not fluids, nothing. She's been having to use the nebulizer, too, which is a heart-breaker.

T is just lying down on my bed, "Mommy. Mommy! I don't feeeeeeeeeel good. I wish Daddy was here." Me, too I say and then he nods his head and says, "Me, too."

Fitful nights of sleep for three nights now. I can't "fix" it. I am a "fixer." I always have been. I have been trying to stop being a "fixer" because it is exhausting, but this isn't the kind of "fixing" that I don't want to do anymore.

I like to fix other people's problems. I like to fix other people's pain. I am a rescuer. And I think that rescuers are made not born. A rescuer is made when something very traumatic happens in the rescuer's life. No one saved them, so they spend their life saving other people. No one rescued me; therefore, I rescue. I am trying to rescue myself.

I am sitting here staring at that last sentence: I am trying to rescue myself. Wow.

Aurora's babies Part III

Aurora's babies are doing well. There are still eggs that have yet to hatch. If you click on the link below, you will see a short video of a new hatchling. It is too cute.
http://www.alaskasealife.org/gc_images/visitors/paralarva_swimming.wmv

The-ahem-"other" man...

I am in love with another man. G's known about him for a long time now. What's not to like! Tall, blue-eyed, handsome...a man to be admired, truly. Witty or serious, I find him incredibly attractive.

He is everything that I find attractive in a man. Well groomed-read that as short hair-nice posture-read that as stands up straight and tall and stands up for what he believes in. He is Jimmy Stewart. Oh, yes, laugh if you will; I do know that he has passed. I know that I never met him, but this is about a love that isn't defined by rules.

As a Marine Corps brat, I find men who carry themselves with confidence very attractive. Tall men are a given, but the trait that I find most alluring in Jimmy Stewart is his sense of what is right.

Above all other roles, do you know which was his favorite? Being an Army Colonel during WWII. He had already received a pilot's license on his own in 1935, but prior to enlisting, the Army told him, basically that he wasn't good enough. Ah. A challenge. Stewart proceeded to return to flight school on his own. He took and paid for lessons on his own. Then on March 22, 1941, the Army realized that they needed Jimmy Stewart in "this man's Army!"

During his 21 months overseas, he flew over 20 combat missions and won nine awards for his meritous service, including: six battle stars, the Distinguished Flying Cross with two Oak Leaf Clusters, Air Medal with three Oak Leaf Clusters and the Croix de Guere with Palm. He acceled in service to this country and it meant everything to him.

My favorite role for Jimmy Stewart was Elwood P. Dowd. This role above all others did the most to further the understanding of a very common malady: mental illness. Elwood loses himself after his mother dies. He becomes an alcoholic and this is when he finds a pooka named Harvey leaning up against a lamp post.

Veta Louise, played by theater veteran Josephine Hull is embarassed that Elwood shows up with Harvey at all times and that her friends think that her brother is crazy. Well, he very well might be, but in the end, Veta Louise doesn't want her brother to get a serum that will shock him back to reality because she loves her brother so much.

Elwood says that his mother used to tell him, "...in this life you have to be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." He continues, "For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me." Well that is it in a nut shell. Before his mother's death, Elwood ran about in his rush-hour life. Working hard and achieving all manner of promotions and accolades for his trouble, but in the end, the thing that he missed was the time that he thought that he should have spent with his mother. Tragically she dies and his sister and niece come to live with him. Veta Louise handles all of the affairs of running the home and Elwood is free to meet the misfits that sit at tables in bars in the early afternoons into the late nights.

He says, "no body brings anything small into a bar." In his own way, he is making a difference by attending to these shattered people. He brings them home for dinner. He makes their aquaintance and enjoys their company. I like to think that he enjoyes their company, not so much because he is "one of them," but because he understands and has compassion for them.

Elwood P. Dowd is a loveable man because he is shattered, yet good because of it. He lost his mother and look what he found: not only a giant pooka named Harvey, but the ability to ease the loneliness of outcasts. We tend to shun outcasts, I think, because they are so 'needy'. How can we squeeze one more person's needs into our schedule? Well the trick is not to think about it.

Remember Rosie's blog about Michael, the guy who came into the clothing store and she bought him a black shirt? She was tending to him. He will never forget that. Some where inside his lonliness, disease and demons, she reached him. And she did it long before she gave him the shirt. He sought her out and without looking at her said, "Hi Rosie." He felt a 'kinship.' He knew it; he knew that she would respond.

That then, should be the ideal. The next time that a homeless person approaches, instead of crossing the street or rejecting their discussion or request, maybe we can look at it as a sign that they see a little of the good in us that Elwood and Rosie have. Maybe instead of looking at them as an irritant, we can try to make their life a little more bearable for even a few minutes. That would be pleasant. Yes, in this life, we need to be so smart or so pleasant. I prefer pleasant, too and you may quote me.

Remember when...

I remember when I could play outside around our block with the kids from the neighborhood. We weren't stalked. We didn't trash other people's yards, homes or property. We weren't allowed to use our parent's spray paint and we didn't.

I remember watching Walter Cronkite on the evening news. He was like a member of the family and he placed a high value on honesty. He didn't have to "make up" or invent news; it was what it was...and there was more than enough to go around. I think even then news was more about the bad things that happened around the world, but it wasn't sensationalized. It didn't feel like it was common place. It didn't feel like everyone around the world had lost the war with evil.

I remember when the truth was valued as highly as life. If you told a lie, there were consequences and you simply didn't tell a lie because it was wrong.

I remember when the news was the star of the night and not the stars telling the news.

I remember when we said the Pledge of Allegiance because it was a matter of loyalty to country and the boys who paid the ultimate price for our freedom.

I remember when someone said, "Oh my God." There was a tragedy happening and it wasn't just another trite saying.

I remember when differences in opinion didn't get you punched in the face at a council meeting.

I remember when children who were good at a sport played it and if they didn't, parents didn't grab a gun and shoot or kill the coach just because their child didn't play in the game.

I remember when great men had dreams of better days and honor and equality and fairness and hope. I remember Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcom X, John and Robert Kennedy, police officers who upheld the law even as it applied to them.

I remember real heroes, like men who threw themselves on hand grenades to protect the lives of their brothers in arms...like fire fighters and police men and the man next door who took out his ladder to save a neighborhood child's pet.

I remember when we went to school and we graduated. There wasn't any if, ands or buts. We just did it. It was expected....required even.

I remember knowing that things would be better one day. I remember knowing that hatred wouldn't be tolerated in any form. I remember knowing that our neighborhoods were safe and the children in them could play without worry.

I remember all of these things and right now I wonder if it was real or if was all an illusion. Were we really in danger all along? Did everyone hate the differences in others so much that they were willing to murder and maim to prove it? I remember these things, don't I?

"Disorderly Conduct"

Wisconsin. A state that isn't too bad to call home. Nice lakes. Nice fishing. Nice hunting, if you are inclined. Nice towns, cities and bergs to live in and raise your children. Nice sports teams, too.

The Milwaukee Brewers' recent ownership change seems to be pumping new life into a team that isn't known for winning games. Nice football team, too; maybe you've heard of them: The Green Bay Packers. The Pack if you are a fan. "Our team" if you are a resident...or at least aspire to be a resident.

Brett Farve is a bad boy who turned good when he got on the wagon five, six or seven years ago. He is a family man now. That is worth aspiring to be. He is taking care of Deanna who is battling breast cancer. Brett had a rough year...lost his dad, his wife had to undergo chemo, but he is resilient. Admirable, even.

Then there is Ahman Green. Good player. Really good. Thought by many to be a good guy. A real nice man. That is that is the persona that he portrays.

Last night, Green was arrested for domestic violence. It is his third arrest. Incidentally, he made bail and the actual charge is now: disorderly conduct. See in Wisconsin, if you beat your wife, you get a "Get Out of Jail Free" card. For some reason, Wisconsin reduces the charge of Domestic Violence to disorderly conduct because apparently, no one in the Wisconsin judiciary has a daughter, niece, grand-daughter or other dear relative who has been the victim of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE.

How do I know this? Because the charge is reduced it is that simple. Have you ever known a victim of domestic violence? Have you ever seen the bruises that are explained away too quickly...I'm clumsy...I fell...I deserved it. (insert loud curdling scream)


Domestic violence in any form is a crime that often ends in murder. That is why the reduction to disorderly conduct is so offensive. And it is even more offensive because this is the third such offense that Green has been arrested for. Shameful. I am disgusted.

This all hits very close to home...yes, pun definitely intended. I am a survivor of domestic violence. I can take care of myself now. I got out. It took a long time to do it. But victims of domestic violence are not so fortunate. Many victims of domestic violence are murdered. It is the way that the story ends. And it is an ending that can be changed.

Part of the stigma that surrounds domestic violence is that no one can understand why anyone would stay with someone who batters them. It's about control. The batterer is very good at control. Inflicting isolation and pain...and sometimes being careful to hit where bruises are all but impossible to see...it is control by one over the life of the other. A victim of domestic violence isn't allowed to have friends, family or outside interests-in many cases. Right-not every case is the same and that, too, is part of the stigma that surrounds domestic violence.

The victim needs support and help to acknowledge and change the cycle. It is a path that requires a lot of therapy and support and determination. Domestic violence creates victims and you are not a survivor until you get out of it. Get away from the batterer.

To take domestic violence and term it disorderly conduct makes it sound like it was out of the batterer's control. Hey, you can tell me a lot of things and I will believe you, but this doesn't make any sense. A batterer commits assault...assault and battery. You do not go from assault and battery to disorderly conduct, which by the way is the same charge that you would cite a high school student for toilet papering their school. See the crime here?

It has to stop. Violence has to stop. It is not going to stop if it is referred to as disorderly conduct. Let's call it for what it is. If you batter a police officer, you are busted. If you batter a judge, attorney, district attorney, your boss, your friend, it is assault and battery. There is no difference.

Oh and one other point: Green's bail was $150. That's right $150.00. The cost of disorderly conduct has sunk to a new low. God bless America.

Everybody Hurts by REM

When the day is long
and the night,
the night is yours alone,

when you're sure you've had enough
of this life,
well hang on.

Don't let yourself go,
everybody cries

and everybody hurts
sometimes.

Sometimes everything is wrong.
Now it's time to sing along.

When your day is night alone
(hold on, hold on)
if you feel like letting go,

Hold on...when you think you've had too much...
of this life, well hang on.

Everybody hurts.
Take comfort in your friends.

Everybody hurts.
Don't throw your hand.
Oh, no.
Don't throw your hand.

If you feel like you're alone
no, no, no,
you're not alone

If you're on your own
in this life,

the days and nights are long,
when you think you've had too much
of this life to hang on.

Well, everybody hurts
sometimes,
everybody cries.

And everybody hurts
sometimes.

And everybody hurts
sometimes.

everybody cries.

And everybody hurts

sometimes.

And everybody hurts sometimes

So, hold on,

hold on.

Hold on,

hold on.

Hold on, hold on.

Hold on,

hold on.

Don't forget balloons!

I forgot about balloons; who can forget about balloons! When a child losses a parent, you let the child release a helium filled balloon with a message to their parent. It is first rate mail to Heaven. I have seen it work. It is their conduit; a visual sign that they are communicating with a parent who is in Heaven. Kids need that.

My first umbrella

It was Christmas. There underneath the tree were umbrellas. One pink, which was mine and one violet, which was my sister's. I hated and mean hated pink. Sissy stuff. ha. My sister always took the pink ones and gave me the violet ones..even though violet was her favorite color.

The umbrellas were beautiful. Mary Poppins was on them and we would fly to school and home each day. It was fun.

It brings up an interesting thought...and I have to give Lightfeather some credit for it, too: Maybe we like things that fly because our gaze is cast upward. Hmmm. It is quite a thought. Lightfeather likes bubbles. I must admit they are favorites of mine, too. We had minature bubble holders at our wedding instead of bird seed.

T and A love bubbles, too. It is fun to go outside and blow bubbles. We have all kinds of wands, too. Great big, stop the passing car bubbles can be made from some of them and it brings a huge smile to the face of the car's occupants, too.

Well, my purple umbrella carried me home or to one hundred-million-buhzillion places in my imagination. Places where care and worry didn't exist. Places where it was rainbow colorful and new. Places were wings can take you. Yes, way up and over there. You remember going there too.

Well we look up for bubbles, kites and umbrellas. Our face is turned to Heaven and possibilities. When you are young, a child, a babe, your face is often turned upward and when it is, there is a big smile on your face. A smile that knows life is good and fun.

All too soon, you grow up and you start looking up less and less. Now, THAT, I think, is the key. Once we grow up, we forget to look up. We forget that cares belong up there in the wild-blue-yonder...up there where Heaven is a dream, a fantasy-a place that we don't understand, but come to believe in. So when is it that we forget to look upward? Well the burdens of adulthood drag us down, I guess. And then our sight is turned downward. Below. Toward Hell, if you follow me.

Then God intervenes. He gives us children so that we can remember what it is like to look up. We see them looking upward and smiling. We see their adventures and their fun. And somehow our vision readjusts. We rememeber what it is like to see the world from dreams and hopes. Hope. Yep, that is it.

So fly that kite, blow the bubbly soapy mixture into little prisms that float on the breeze, hold up your arm and fly with your umbrella...look up and do it often. Give your children the same joy that you found in looking up...give them some of the magic...some of the fantasy. Let them build those castles in the air and with a little help, they won't make the same mistake that we do: forgetting where hope lives.

Mr. Dick Flies His Kite

Little David Copperfield arrives at Aunt Trotwood's house
while she is working on her garden.

The book: David Copperfield
The chapter: I Make Another Beginning

Click on the title of this post and you till be taken to the chapter of the book that begins to discuss the kite flying;)

Go fly a kite

I have several books that I like to read once per year. David Copperfield is my favorite.

David Copperfield is said to be the life story of Charles Dickens. He lived in poverty and knew all too well about the rejects and misfits that he so adored. During an interview, Dickens said, "I have a favorite son and his name is David Copperfield."

The reason that I enjoy this book so much is that it is about an abused and abandoned boy. It is about a child who is made to feel that he is not good. The thing is, David Copperfield is very good and worth knowing. He goes off to find his Aunt Trotwood and when he finds her, he is reborn.

One of my treasured passages in David Copperfield is when Mr. Dick, a resident at Aunt Trotwood's home flies his kites. He is a man with some emotional or mental issues. He writes these thoughts on paper and then he makes the paper into a kite. Then he flies his kite outside on the breeze. Sending the kite into the air with his burdens releases them from his mind.

He pours them out with great care...the thoughts spill all over his paper. There is nothing neat about his writing. He crosses things out when he isn't satisfied with the wording. He smears the ink with his hands. The papers are very ugly, indeed.

But when he makes his kite and sails it up, up, up, it becomes something beautiful. His messy thoughts are released to Heaven where cares belong...the trick is knowing how to leave your cares airborne after you are done flying your kite. You can't keep taking them back. That is the hardest lessen to learn of all. I am driven to take back my cares and worries, which is what keeps me stuck. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go and make a whole mess of kites so I can sail them tomorrow.

An "un" weekend Part II

Calm. Calmer. Calmest.

angry loop

begin again:

Calm. Calmer. Calmest.

An "un" weekend

What I am hoping for this evening

Cyber friends

About one month ago, I learned about a blog...it was a blog of an old "friend." A person who walked away from fame and fortune to save herself and her family. She needed to find her "yellow" again.

I didn't know what a blog was. I didn't have one. I did "get" one though. I think I realized that I needed one. In therapy, I learned the value of journaling. It is cathartic. I have posted and read and thought and pondered. It has been a good and valuable experience.

The thing is that once I started blogging, I read Rosie's comments. That is when I became interested in other people's lives. I usually find something touching in a post left on Rosie's Comments pages and then link for a visit.

I have visited many a blog and read about many a heart break, joy or view of something simple. I comment and viola! I have connected.

The interesting thing is that I have forged cyber friendships with people that I might not have met. I love the play and film-Six Degrees of Separation. I really should read the novel. Greg took me to see the play for our anniversary. Oh! It was wonderful. Intimate seating, so the audience was actually part of the story...much like the people standing around listing to Louisa, call me Uisa and her husband's stories spun by the "son of Sidney Poitier." Six degrees.

I visit blogs on a semi-regular basis or almost obsessively depending on what is happening in my world...or what isn't happening. But I have connected...with friends...people from all walks of life. I enjoy this discussion and support. It is like I have known you for a long time. I know that it is an illusion, but it feels that way. I think that it feels that way because we share very deep thoughts and feelings.

Perhaps the best thing about this is that it opens my mind. I am learning. I am feeling. I am "joining." I have read hate, but that is actually few and far between. For the most part, there is friendship, laughter, concern, support, assistance and curiosity.

I like looking into your life and I thank you for visiting mine. Here, in cyber space, I find that I am not alone. That is comforting. Thank you for your cyber support.

5~7~5 Haiku Part II

It looked like midnight
The wind howled while rain fell
Triple rainbow birth

My love for you grows,
Like a vine on a trelis
Watered and tended.

Red tulip's burden:
Spring snowfall looks like diamonds,
Crowned regal beauty.

Mountains jut upward.
Their youth is the jagged edge.
Nature moves mountains.

Woman gave Wendy's the finger

Exactly what is it that drives people to lie, cheat and steal?
Believe me, I know that money is behind it, but what I mean is...what drives a person to do it? What is it that possesses people to fabricate something like this?

Well, in this person's case, it is repitition. I believe she has won...WON...three similar lawsuits. So she walked away with cash settlements and it was never enough...so she decided to try Wendy's. I don't know where she got the finger and it really doesn't matter. It is high time that someone stopped her. Did it really take a fourth lawsuit to determine that she was faking it? All of it?

A similar situation is happening in ballparks across the United States. A fan throws something onto a baseball field. It hits a baseball player-heretofore referred to as the throwee. The baseball player retaliates against the fan, heretofore referred to as the thrower. The thrower is then sued by the throwee and wins the lawsuit. Oh! Throw-up!



How can the throwee win? I ask once again, where do jurors come from. I am not saying that fights or retaliation is right, but I am saying that if a ball player is doing his job, he has a right to be kept safe from harm by fans.

And can you really tell me that a fan would do something so ignorant? Well, yes. But that isn't the point. Just last week, an irate father shot a football coach because the coach wouldn't let the father's kid play football. HELLO! The father has just taught his son his definition of sportsmanship.

I think that people who bring frivolous lawsuits should have to pay everyone for their time. And I mean from the judge to the jury.

I think that fans who hit ball players should be thrown out of the game and then they should have to take anger management courses. After their anger management courses are through, they should be put on probation and if they so much as get in someone's face, they should be put in jail before a gun is involved.

I think the woman who lied about her chili should be put behind bars because she has extorted money from three other places of business. By the way, that would make her a habitual criminal. Stealing is stealing.

I don't think that I will ever be able to have another bowl of chili in any restaurant, much less Wendy's. Doesn't the picture of the "digit" keep popping in your head? I see it now. It is awful.

If we can't stop people from stealing money from companies for stupid things, like a HOT cup of coffee from McDonald's...a woman won that lawsuit, too....DUH! Coffee is hot, twit. Unless you order Iced Coffee, but then she probably would have sued because the drink was too cold and gave her frostbite.

Horrace Greely said: The saddest day of a man's life comes when he tries to get money without earning it.

That is what frivolous lawsuits are; undeserving people looking for a windfall. I'd rather be poor and honest because I can look myself in the mirror and because I can, I know that Paul, Alisha and Troy will be able to also.

Roy G. Biv is a friend of mine

Roy G. Biv is a rainbow

red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet

When I think of rainbows, I think of Louis Armstrong:

I see trees of green

red roses to

I see ’em bloom.....

for me and for you

And I think to myself

what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue

clouds of white

Bright blessed days

dark sacred nights

And I think to myself

what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow.....so pretty

in the sky

Are also on the faces

of people ..going by

I see friends shaking hands

sayin’.. how do you do

They’re really sayin’......i love you

I hear babies cry

I watch them grow

They’ll learn much more

than I’ll never know

And I think to myself

what a wonderful world

The colors of a rainbow.....so pretty

in the sky

Are there on the faces

of people...going by

I see friends shaking hands

sayin’.. how do you do

They’re really sayin’, I love you

I hear babies cry

I watch them grow

you know their gonna learn

A whole lot more than I’ll never know

And I think to myself

what a wonderful world

Yes I think to myself

what a wonderful world

Amber Alert Ticker Code

In honor of Mike, (reference my previous post entitled: On Eagle's Wings) who was an FBI agent who participated in the search and rescue of a kidnapped baby, I have added the Code Amber Alert Ticker to my website. If you click on the title of this post, you can get the html code to add it to your website. Thank you.

An Eye for a Fighting Chance

Dateline-Bangladesh, India
A two and a half year old girl is going hungry.
Her dad abandoned her and her mother 18 months ago.

In India, abandoned moms and widows

are on the lowest rung of the poverty ladder

or food chain...if you will

starving moms means hungry children

This mother is so desperate,

she put an ad in a newspaper

to auction off one of her eyes

for money to feed her daughter

...an eye for an...

Is this what we have come to?

A mother would do anything to feed her children

but is it really that difficult to get food?

and if it is, how can that be?

The mother said that she doesn't think twice about

auctioning her eye

she said something like what is an eye

to me if my daughter is hungry?

Wow

What priorities.

Reuters interviewed the mother.

She told them that she hasn't had any takers yet.

Maybe the readers thought it a joke.

I pray that no one takes her up on it,

but that CARE or the Red Cross

help her feed her daughter.

Go to this site to click and donate food for the hungry;

it's free and if you click every day, you add to the donation:

http://www.thehungersite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites

Lilo and Stitch~the Serious

T says, "let's watch Lilo and Stitch-the serious."

So cute, but he doesn't realize how accurate it is...and neither did I.

Lilo takes pictures of people and Nani, her sister develops the film. Lilo hangs the pictures on the wall in her room. I didn't understand why she took pictures of the people and things that she did until Greg explained it to me,"She sees the beauty inside things."

Wow. That is so true. And recently, I realized that Rosie is the same way. In her blog, she mentions Michael, who is someone that most people would shun, but Rosie is drawn into his life.

It is a very serious matter to accept people for who they are...not what they seem. Lilo finds the beauty in Stitch, who was created to be a monster of destruction. Rosie sees the beauty in people who are bent on self-destruction-not because they want to be, but because it is what they have learned to do or accept.

I read Find Me...finally. I have wanted to read it since it was published, but finally did. In the reading, I realized a lot about myself. It helped me see things in a different frame. A yellow one.

See that is the goal, I think. Help people reframe their pain, grief, circumstance by seeing what you have done in yours. We grow by what we see, think and feel. It shouldn't matter whether we are a dandelion or a butter cup...in the end both are yellow.

Aurora's Babies Part II

Aurora's eggs continue to hatch. At last count, there were eight.
That doesn't seem like a lot because she laid tens of thousands of eggs.
So you have to remember that the aquarium staff
thought that the eggs were sterile and drained her tank,
which killed some of her babies...

But Aurora continues to wash the eggs that have yet to hatch.
She is a good mommy.
The end is near for her.
She is spent after not eating for seven months
so she could tend her eggs.

She can be proud. She did a good job.

Thank God For Kids

Please visit Rosie's blog...travesty of justice in Texas.

click on title to navigate to TX senate contacts including telephone, fax, snail mail and email addys.

If it weren't for kids have you ever thought
There wouldn't be no Santa Clause
Look what the stork just brought
Thank God for Kids.

We'd all live in a quiet house
Without Big Bird or a Mickey Mouse
And Kool-aid on the couch
Thank God for Kids.

Thank God for kids there's magic for a while
A special kind of sunshine in a smile
Do you ever stop to think? or wonder why?
The nearest thing to Heaven is a child.

Daddy how does this thing fly?
A hundred other where's and why's
You really don't know but we try
Thank God for Kids.

When you look down in those trustin eyes
That look to you, you realize
Its love that you can't buy
Thank God for Kids.

Thank God for there's magic for a while
A special kind of sunshine in a smile
Do you ever stop to think? or wonder why?
The nearest thing to Heaven is a child.
When you get down on your knees tonight
To thank the Lord for his guiding light
And pray they turn out right
Thank God for Kids.
Thank God for Kids...

Almost Heaven

Violet is my favorite color.
Yellow is a new color that I am trying to find.
My family is on their way home.
Well G and T are on their way.
P and A are at school.

I missed them.
I needed to miss them.
Things are hard right now.
Financial struggles.
When do you grow up enough that finances
aren't a constant issue?

Do president's know what poverty is like?
Do senators know hunger?
Does congress have to choose between a galloon of milk, loaf of bread, maybe a treat for the kids
Or a prescription?

My oldest and I lived in a homeless shelter.
That was ages ago.
Long before G.
Long before A and T.

Once, before a shelter was available,
I stayed overnight at work w/my son.
I cooked in the company kitchen
There was a shower.
There was a refrigerator..sigh a refrigerator.

Paul fell asleep on the floor.
I had made a bed out of some of our clothes.
His tummy was full, he slipped into a hundred dreams
of possibilities and happily ever afters


Then a co-worker came in.
Nausea washed over me.
He knew.
I tried to say something
to explain it away
I'm waiting for a ride.
car broke down--but i didn't have one.

He looked at me and he knew that i was homeless
He looked at my son with such compassion
He looked at me and knew.
I begged with my eyes for him to not acknowledge what he new.
And mercifully he didn't.

He came back to work to pick up a sandwich
he had left it in the refrigerator after lunch.
He finally exited with his sandwich in hand.

The next day, my boss told me to quit.
He said there is assistance if you don't have income
Absurdity of absurdities.
Another co-worker told me to come live with her and her brother's family.
How could I?
so many under one roof already.

I quit and got assistance.
I rented a room in a man's house
he had two boys
it worked for a while
assistance was the bare minimum

but it was better than the street
or the office floor
sort of

there are days when i look at my life
and our situation and realize
that i am perilously close to
sleeping on some floor or street
God, how in the world can it be true
now all of these years later?

When P was little, he would ask,
"mom, remember when we lived in the church?"
yes, Honey, i remember.

I returned to the shelter one night from work-
yes i was working-but there wasn't enough-
I came in from work, turned on the light
there were dozens of roaches on the blanket that covered
my little boy...ROACHES.
They ran when I turned the light on.
It made me sick.
I left the light on all night so they would stay away.
Yes, it made me sick,
but at the time it was almost Heaven.

Missing my family

My family isn't home tonight
they are staying at gma and gpa's
no one is here tonight but me and our pets

i am reading Find Me
it is very good
i understand

~spingle~
~ping~

i get it

i know things, too
it is a 'gift' that isn't always fun
all of a sudden
i know things

i am missing my puppy
he is my baby boy
but he doesn't want to be a boy
at all
i'm not a boy he tells me
i am a puppy

i miss my girl, too
she is femininity personified
she is every womanly charm that i am not

i miss my high schooler, too
his gf's heartbeat is 140 at rest!
he is frightened
i tell him all will be well and pray

i miss my g, too
he had me listen to
REM's everybody hurts
it saved me
in a very dark hour

i am surrounded by gold
sometimes you have to be alone
to see its shine.

Well, I finally watched...

I have never watched AI
I cannot stand the ARROGANT Simon
But tonight, I watched.

It was good
I used to watch Star Search, so it was like that.
The 70's dance music was a good night for my baptism

I loved the songs...truly

Constatine needs a shave and a haircut
great eyes though

Bo was awesome
even though i didn't want him to be
he has a great rock n roll voice
he also needs a haircut, but it is rock n roll

Vonzell was amazing
her voice, very good

I like the others too
MacArthur Park holds a special place in my heart
always did

I also love Every Lasting Love
Carl Carlton...sigh Scott did a nice job

it is between Vonzell and Bo tonight

The blond kid is going home
though i liked his song, too
well, he's going home or carrie is...

sigh...simon is a beast
ryan, now i get seacrest out. lol
he stands up to the beast;
there's no need to fear
UNDERDOG is here...:)

Spring cleaner

Lots to Do

This day I am going to clean my room.

Sweep all floor space with a broom.

Wash the dishes, make my bed,

Put ties on the open loaf of bread.

I am going to clean the tub.

Give each basin a needed scrub.

Wash each window and each screen.

Wipe them to a clear and sparkling sheen.

Vacuum and mop every floor,

And dust the frame of every door.

Wash the walls and clean the stairs.

Clean upholstery of pet hairs.

Work and work 'til it's all done.

Mark off the chores one by one.

Lots to do on this sunny day.

Oh, heck, come on T; let's go play!

My kids

PJ...when he was little, he looked at the moon and said,
"see! Balloon in the sky."

A...when she was little, she would touch my seven month pg tummy and say,
"Hi, T! Come an' play!"

T...he is still little and says,
"I'm NOT a boy! I'm a puppy."

These are my kids. They are my pride and joy. They bring me happiness and joy. More of that than pain, but as a mom, I do know pain.

P, is 18...running non-stop toward graduation. Can it be that long ago that he was born? 42 hours of hard labor and then a C-Section. Doc!!!! Did ya have to wait so long?????

A-planned c-section postponed to the next morning, but my water broke in a huge and nasty storm. Greg drove me to the hospital and we were sure that we would have to race a tornado! The wind was that strong. Five hours of hard labor and then a C-Section. I sobbed, "This isn't fair!!! You said I wouldn't have to be in labor." lol

T-planned c-section, but he wouldn't wait. Six hours of hard labor and then a C-Section. He was so cute...but premature by six weeks...and still he weighed 7 lbs 2 oz. He was fine though. What a relief.

These are my children. My joy is watching them grow. I protect them from harm. Kiss their "owies". Hug their fears away. I am a mom and that is the best job anyone can have. It is the job I never thought that I would be able to do. Triple blessing. :)

Her private prison

She lived in a private prison.
Ever since she was young.
Various monsters play a role.
Some related, but some not.
All cruel.

She can remember hating Valentines Day.
All of the elephant valentines landed in her box.
Names? Oh many, many, many:
Keg legs; tub o' lard; two ton Tessie
And now...Free Willy she hears someone shout as she is removing bags from the back of the car.

She hasn't ventured out doors much since that day.
She hides in her room.
With her computer for company.
She hides and runs from it.
She hides and runs from herself.

There was abuse.
Unfortunately, there is a lot of that.
Evidenced by all of the abuse discussed in blogs.
She knows it isn't right to hide,
But she is afraid to go back.


She is afraid to try anymore.
She has an anxiety attack just thinking about it.
Sigh. Her life isn't what she thought it would be.

Chocolate Milk

My dad, a career Marine, took us-a family of six-to the show. A matinee on base in Iwakunii, Japan was 25 cents! What a treat is was to go to the show, just us kids. Three girls and one boy. We had the time of our lives.

Well, dad, Captain Dad, took us to the movies. It was dark when we arrived home after the show. We exited the car and waited at the door for Dad to unlock the door and let us inside our house. It set on a cul-de-sac. We were friends with everyone on our little island. It felt like an island, anyway.

Well Captain Dad has turned the key and opened the door. A flash zipped through the door before anyone could get inside. The flash ran under the table that the television sat on. It was Chocolate Milk. A stray that all of the kids in our neighborhood had adopted. He was beautiful. White, light brown with some black. We all named him Chocolate Milk because on his muzzle, there was a ring that made it look like he had been drinking a bowl of chocolate milk.

My dad in his booming loud voice told 'that dog' to get out of MY house. Chocolate Milk barked back at him. Then Dad yelled at him some more. Then Chocolate Milk barked some more right back at him. Well this went on back and forth and it kept getting louder and louder.

Suddenly it stopped. My dad looked at Chocolate Milk and smiled. He shook his head and then said, "Any dog that will stand up to me is MY dog!"

Well we were in Heaven, my brother, sisters and I...the next day, we were the envy of the cul-de-sac. He was ours. The entire neighborhood had adopted him and he picked us. He was ours.

My dad loved HIS dog. So much so that when dad got orders to return to the States, he flew HIS dog home in a helicopter. I smile at the thought of Chocolate Milk he was unique.

Years later, we were in our two-story home in Southern California. Inside there was a balcony that over looked the living room. We would watch t.v. and when no one was paying attention to him, Chocolate Milk would go upstairs and stand on the balcony. He would stand and wait. Then a commercial would come on and someone would realize that Chocolate Milk wasn't with us.

We would look up. And, I swear, Chocolate Milk would smile! We would clap our hands and say, "Yea! What a pretty boy! Yea!" He would prance down the stairs! His head and neck arched. He was a HAM. ha ha ha. He would walk into the living room and allow us peasants to pet him and make a fuss over him. How he loved that. How we did. He was a great dog: Chocolate Milk.

5-7-5 Haiku

My children's laughter.
Rejoice for they are praying!
Joy reigns forever!

Now, open your eyes;
Sunshine awaits your sweet smile.
So jump out of bed!

Redwood reach upward.
Hug Heaven with majesty.
You are nature's song.

Golden clouds gallop,
Over taking the darkness.
Ah, it is sunrise

On Eagle's Wings

Refrain

And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

Newborn and fragile, the beautiful infant girl was being stalked by a woman who had been hanging around the hospital. In a moment, the woman swooped into the baby's mom's room. Acting and dressed like a nurse, she told the new mommy that it was time to return the baby to the nursery. She carefully took the infant from her mommy. She craddled the baby with care. She exited the mommy's room. Then she exited the hospital...infant in hand.

He returned from his run-three miles today. Bravo! Body in good shape...the best of his life. He was a fairly new graduate of the FBI Academy in Quantico. He called home while he was away. Happier than he had been in his life. "I'm not making the cut on the shooting range, though." He said. Then he described how the instructor got him through the nerves. After the nerves faded, he qualified as an "expert" with a gun. He made it and was assigned to a Missouri city's bureau...He wasn't even 30, but he realized his dream.

It was time to feed her baby, so the new mommy beeped the nurses station. She waited patiently for the nurse to bring her beautiful daughter in. She prayed and thanked God for her baby's health. All ten fingers. All ten toes. A true bundle of joy. She buzzed the nurses' station again..."Where's my baby?"

A nurse enters the room, but doesn't have the baby. The nurse scans the room, smiles nervously and then exits. The supervising nurse enters with a member of hospital security. Your baby is missing. What?????? Yes, your baby is missing. The police are on the way.

He is just exiting the shower when he hears his pager. He wraps a towel around his waist, checks the number and calls his office. Urgently needed at the office; he says he's on his way.

The baby girl is crying. The fake nurse pulls into a retail store parking lot. They go inside and get bottles and formula. Baby is fussy, but finally begins to drink; she's too hungry to deny the food even though it isn't mommy's milk.

The woman has called her husband. "I had the baby." He says he will be there as quickly as possible. They are going to take their baby home.

He gets to the office and is assigned a partner. They are looking for a woman who kidnapped a baby from a hospital. They begin their search along with 100 other agents. After many hours, they come upon a car that matches the description of the one that the woman left the hospital in. The description was taken from security tapes at the hospital.

He and his partner pull along side the car. There is a blanket in the backseat of the car. His heart is pounding. They drop back and pull behind the car. They follow it for a while and "run the plates." No outstanding wants or warrants. They look at each other and decide to pull the driver over.

Hello. Would you, please step out of your car? Why? Just please exit your car. The driver gets out. His partner stays with the driver. The passenger is alarmed, but doesn't make trouble. He opens the back car door. He reaches for the blanket. It unfurls as he begins to pull on it. It is empty.

Meanwhile on the other side of the state, the car is found parked in the driveway. The baby is found safe and sound and in good health. Five agents take the couple into custody. The baby is cradled and taken to a vehicle. Come on, Sweet Heart. Let's get you home.

The reunion is a happy one for mommy and baby. They both cry for different reasons. Mommy puts baby to her breast and baby eats greedily, happily, peacefully.

He returns to the office. This is the best day of his life. He didn't find the baby, but she was found and he is happy. Later, he watches the reunion of mommy and daughter on t.v. like most of the country. He is happy. This is the life. Yes, this is the life.

He called us and told us the story of the kidnapping and how good it felt to be part of the rescue effort. No, he didn't find her, but they found her. This is a dream come true. He said, "I'm making a difference." We smiled as he said this. We knew that he had been searching for his meaning for so long.

Two months later, he doesn't arrive at work. Agents go looking for him. They find him lying in his own blood. They call an ambulance, but they know that it is too late. The bullet found its mark. There was nothing that could be done. They are shaken up. It isn't easy finding one of your own. They call their supervisor. Someone will have to call his family.

I am seven months pregnant and dressed in black for the funeral. I burst into tears as I hug his mom. I pull it together and then hug his sister and fall apart all over again. Some how it is worse hugging his dad. It hurts more hugging his dad who is trying not to cry, but his body becomes racked with sobs anyway. Our baby will never know him. He will never hold her. She will never look into his eyes, but I swear she will know him. She will know all about him.

He is our angel, now. He watches over us. When ever we hear of a kidnapping or a story of the FBI, we think of him. We know he is there helping, watching, making a difference. God, how we miss him.

Aurora's babies

Aurora is a four-year old octopus. Last year, she met J1 a male octopus.
They liked each other almost immediately and they courted each other.
Octopi flash colors when they are courting and it must have been quite a show.
They went into hiding and mated.

Four weeks later, Aurora laid tens of thousands of eggs.
She was a good Mommy.
She washed her eggs daily and fought off sea stars and sea cucumbers
who wanted nothing more than to devour her eggs.

The aquarium staff in Anchorage gave up on her young.
There were no obvious signs of life in her eggs.
The staff thought that the eggs were sterile...apparently Aurora was past her prime.
but Aurora continued to wash and mother her eggs;
meanwhile, the aquarium staff began draining her pool.

The eggs were exposed and drying,
but Aurora found a way to squirt water up to them
and wash them all the same.
Aurora loved her family; she continued to tend her eggs.
Lo and behold! A miracle.

An INTERN at the aquarium noticed a dark spot in some of the drying eggs.
She asked about it...
EYES!! The eggs were alive.
Today, Aurora's patience and love paid off.
At the Alaska SeaLife Center in Seward,
Little Octopi are hatching.
Aurora is a mommy.

She continues to tend to the unhatched eggs.
Washing them carefully and defending them from predators.
Aurora is in love.
Alas, she is going to die now...it is nature's way,
but in the tens of thousands of eggs, surely there is another like Aurora.
A Mommy who will find a way to tend her young
even when science tells us to let them go.

We are not God.

My comments are gone!

I had comments...two...two wonderful comments...and they are gone...disappeared...what happened?

Turn Around Look at Me...

My midday radio show was number one in our core demo. It took a lot of work to get there. Once there, I was able to join the Variety Club and help their Children's Charities. We held a Radiothon and raised funds for the Variety Club.
I was also our station's production director, so I was making all of the promos and putting together songs with snipets of interviews that I conducted with families that benefited from the Variety Club's assistance.
I interviewed one family...

Our son was washing the minivan. He was out there for some time and we didn't hear from him, so I went to check up on him. He was hanging from the driver's side window. Feet dangling. His head stuck between the window and the top of the door. Some how his head got stuck. He looked lifeless.

Call 911!!!!! I threw the door open and pushed the button to open the window

-sirens, flashing lights.

He seemed lifeless. They started CPR and rescue breathing.

He was in fact dead.

My boy was dead.

I am now driving the van that had killed my son. I am following the ambulance to the hospital. I can see them working on him through the back window. They never stopped trying to

save him.

They rushed him to one of the rooms and we were told to wait

and wait

and wait

The doctor came into the lobby.

Your son is alive.

Hallelujah! Rejoice! I remeber all of the promises that I made to God.

No more smoking, drinking or swearing.

No more vices.

No more anger...No more.

The doctor is still talking. He is telling me about brain damage...my son stopped

breathing long enough that there was brain damage.

He did not know how bad it was.

He did not know how my son would be when he awoke...he was in a coma.

A coma is the body's way of shutting itself down so the major organs will have the blood and energy that they need to heal and rejuvenate. I pray that he will rejuvenate.

But he is paralyzed from the neck down.

He can no longer speak clearly.

He cannot call me Dad. He cannot feel me hug him.

My baby, my boy.

He was 12 when it happened.

I interview this father and afterwards climb back into the car. I bawl and sob...I have a healthy son..an active eight year old. I swear to myself that I will NEVER buy a car with power windows.

I cannot work right now. I have to go home. I have to pick up my son and take him to the park. I have to see my son's body working for him...unlike the boy that I just met.

The boy was sweet. He smiled at me. I hugged him and stroke his cheeks. I made him laugh; I made his family laugh...I felt his family's pain.

I went to work the next morning, did my show and then went into the production room. I listened, edited, cut, spliced....we didn't have digital equipment yet....I knew all along that there was only one song to use for this piece....The Vogues'~ Turn Around Look at Me.

There is someone walking behind you,

turn around, look at me.

There is someone watching your footsteps,

turn around, look at me

There is someone who really needs you

here's my heart in my hand.

Turn around, (turn around,) look at me,

(look at me,) understand,

understand,

That there's someone who'll stand beside you.

Turn around, look at me.

And there's someone who'll love and guide you.

Turn around, look at me.

Oh, I've waited, but I'll wait forever

for you to come to me.

Look at someone (look at someone)

who really loves you,

yeah, really loves you.

Turn around, look at me.

And I added conversations from his dad to the song and our phone number so when the song played, listeners would call in. I cried my eyes out the whole time that I was editing the tape and the song. Other station employees would come in to see if I was okay. The sales person for the Variety Club came into the production room when I was finished with the song and I played it for her. She cried. And I KNEW that it was good.

He came to visit me at the mall where I was broadcasting live during the radiothon. I jumped off of the bandstand and ran to him. His eyes sparkled. I gave him a cassette with "his" song on it. I added a few of his favorite songs and dedicated them to him. I dedicated my show to him, too; the next week.

He died eight years later. His poor tired body couldn't go on anymore...His dad's eyes still sparkle at the mention of his name...I still get teary eyed when I hear Turn Around Look at Me. I keep my vow not to own a vehicle with power windows...I tell people about the dangers of them...I remember this boy and I imagine him running in Heaven...full steam ahead...no wheel chair...no boundaries...just like before the accident. I see him in Heaven with his good body and know that he is at peace...

Nothing Gold Can Stay~Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

I love Robert Frost...so much so that my husband bought me Frost's works for Christmas one year. Frost's The Road Less Travelled is a favorite, too.

I remember as a child sitting in the living room on the floor. Then on t.v. the narrator was saying one of Robert Frost's poems. I joined in and recited it verbatum...third grader or fourth grader...and I remember that my parents looked at me in surprise.

My mom beamed: It is neat when you see your children have culture. (smile)

I won my first writing award two years later. My fictional story was published in the school paper...how cool was that?

I sang at Dodger Stadium in 1973...that was incredible. Three songs and then the National Anthem...

Down by the River~Bruce Springsteen...reminds me of an adventure with my husband...we pulled over and it was magical...

Good Things~The BoDeans...our song..."I see Good Things for you and I..." Our song of love and forever....

Births...son, daughter, son...the most incredible experience of a life time...

Those were some of my Golden or Yellow days....not all but some of the best...

Then leaf subsides to leaf....

Phone rings...."Mike shot himself to death..." NOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOO! Please NOOOO.

but it was true...and that fast, he was gone...our daughter's Godfather...our groomsman...our fishing friend...FOREVER 29 gone...

So Eden sank to grief...

Silence from my dearling...She had been hospitalized many times by now...she couldn't last...

Then the answer...she killed herself in the hospital...pulled out all of the tubes herself...her parents had killed themselves before her...FOREVER 16...too frightened to make it in this world. too abused and used up...her foster father was abusing her...I told her to tell because it had happened to me...after I told, I never had to see him again...it was too late for her...but it bought her six months or so of life without torture...on the outside at least...

So dawn goes down to day...Nothing Gold can stay...

Mike and Kaitlen were GOLD...yellow...wonderful...I see them in Gold...still dream of them...still miss them every day...still can see them most of the time...gone now six and five years respectively...they were Gold...

Hiding behind anonymity

Hiding behind anonymity
isn't brave.
It is the ultimate cowardice.
"We" would not be "Us"
If we were anonymous

If you have to hide behind a farce
Then you~yourself~are unreal
Not in a good way, but ignorant and contrived.
Why? To what purpose?
What is accomplished?

I read comments on a blog
Most were caring expressions of joy
A friend once lost now found
But heartless creatures invade the space
What has happened to gentility?

I missed Rosie...many do, I see
But if you do not care for her
Why do you stay tuned?
Take flight...leave...be gone...adios...farewell...
Oh whatever...go to hell...

Patience is a virtue...
Kindness is next to Godliness...
Or was it cleanliness is next to Godliness?
HE knows the truth...
Let the children come....he said to His flock...

She is a mystery...a creature of love and care.
She captures tiny hearts and heals them...and eases their dispair...
The truth is that she loves children
No greater good...no deeper love.
What is your real objection? IGNORANCE...

Hunting Cats

Here we go...now I have heard it all...
then, I am one who thinks hunting deer in cities, bergs and townships is a sorry way
to deal with deer walking down the middle of the street
...is it only in Wisconsin that people hunt deer because they are an inconvenience?
WE~humans~are the ones that invaded THEIR habitats....
what are they supposed to do? Where are they supposed to find food?
I don't get it. I really don't...and, yes, I have hunted. I've tasted venison, grouse, dove, quail, pheasant...
I have, but hunting cats...good grief...what is next?
Apparently, it will be okay if Q62 is approved...it may have been already a decision was due today...
Hunting cats because someone dumped them or abandoned them or worse is just as insane....
When will we realize the impact that our actions have on living breathing things?
I am sick....
If you would like to stop this...please visit www.dontshootthecat.com and sign the online petition.

Rosie's Art

I read Rosie's blog again. She has a storage garage full of her paintings. Oh, how I wish that she would auction them off on ebay or something. That would be wonderful. She could use the money for her foundations. I would like to bid on her paintings. Some are very sad, but in side, they are "yellow", which she calls peace and love, I think.

I'm not sure where the "yellow" reference comes from, but I think it must be an "inside" joke type thing...not that she is kidding, just that she and maybe anyone who knows a song that refers to being "yellow" as being a good and warm thing--are in on it.

It reminded me of a Robert Frost poem...Nothing Gold Can Stay. It was quoted in S.E. Hinton's novel The Outsiders:
"...So leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."
I guess that is what I think about when I read Rosie's blog...she speaks sometimes of bigotry and hate...she is right, she was so adored. It makes me sad. I remember she did an interview and she was asked if she was afraid that her fans would turn away from her because she came out. She replied that she didn't think that they would leave her or hate her...because she had too much faith in them...in us. I wish that she knew that there are so many people out here who miss and continue to adore her.
How can this be 2005? We are stuck in a world of hatred. A world where you can say anything...you can hide behind anonymity...behind white sheets and pointed hoods....behind law suits that don't allow prayer, but allow hatred to be spewed forth as so much "truth."
The truth is that there are more GOOD people out here than bad, but we always here about the bad. I bet that Rosie had confidence in her viewers, because SHE WAS RIGHT. We are too good to hate her on the basis of NOTHING. We cannot control anyone but ourselves. She has done so much good. Why can't we just love her? Why can't we just enjoy the wonderful things that she does for children?
I was abused as a child...sexually. Hate him. Hate the perpetrators of crime. Don't hate good people. But you know what? VICTIMS of crimes are treated like criminals...attorneys can make up any lie that they want to and have someone attest to it and the victim's reputation is ripped to shreds. Criminals, however, can commit numerous murders or rapes or whatever and you cannot breathe a word of it during a trial.
Why do people hate? You know what? I have to forgive the people who abused me because if I don't, I drown in hate and anger. Why give up my life to that? It has taken me a long time to voice it aloud, but I know that I am close. I forgave once and then a whole bunch more flashbacks started. It was frightening and I hated all over again. But I hated someone who did me wrong. Hating someone who has NEVER done anything to you is insane.
There is too much insanity in 2005. I wonder sometimes what Abe Lincoln, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., and all of the rest think when they look upon a sorry, sorry world that hasn't made it beyond the hate...