'My Most Meaningful Christmas Present' A 2017 post repeat

My Most Meaningful Christmas Present

One day this week, someone posted this question on Facebook, "What was the most meaningful Christmas present you ever received?" Answers ranged from a return to health to a jet black Jaguar and everything in between. No matter what you perceive to be the gift you'll always treasure beyond all others, that special something is always tied to a specific time and place in your life.

Christmas Eve was a very sacred event in our family when my brother and I were growing up. Since we lived in Zedo's house, naturally his rules on this day were religiously upheld. No one other than the immediate family members were permitted to enter the house and sit down for the traditional Christmas Eve dinner. Once seated with Zedo at the head of the table, Baba to his right, and the rest of the guests gathered according to seniority, Zedo would pray in Slovak, then lift his shot glass to wish his wife, children, their spouses, and his grandchildren a blessed Christmas. The adults did likewise as they toasted Zedo in return. Next every child would stand and recite Christmas wishes in Slovak. Zedo and Baba would beam with pride to listen to us, perhaps going back in their minds to their childhoods when they'd done the same so long ago.

(Since we all attended Catholic school, the nuns began teaching us a festive speech early in November. No two classes ever learned the same greeting for that particular year.)

The women would then return to the kitchen to bring out the mushroom soup. Everyone received a small bowl and ate the sour mixture in silence. We were told that the meaning behind the soup was a reminder of the suffering we all must face in life. And since it wasn't the most pleasant-tasting soup in my opinion, the suffering started right then and there, at least for me!

When the bowls were removed, traditional favorites like babalki, langosh, navy beans, and fish were passed around the table and enjoyed along with happy conversation and boisterous laughter. At the end of the meal, Zedo again said a prayer of thanks, and after hugs and kisses, everybody returned home. Those who left would be back on Christmas Day to gather around Zedo's table once more, this time including some very special family friends.

As clean-up got underway, my brother and I were told to go upstairs, get into our jammies, and jump in bed! Nobody had to tell us twice on this Night of Nights!
About an hour or two later, we'd hear a loud bang and run to the top of the stairs. Zedo would be standing at the bottom, smiling and pointing to all the presents surrounding the 8ft. tall tree he'd cut and trimmed just days ago.

I know it's taken me a while to get to my most meaningful Christmas present, so here goes. Instead of rushing to see who's name was on the largest package like my brother, I'd immediately go to my stocking hanging from the mantle. It was about two feet long and always contained the same things each and every year until we were practically in our teens. There would be a coloring book, a fresh box of crayons, a drawing pad, pencils, gloves, socks, candy canes, AND MY MOST MEANINGFUL CHRISTMAS PRESENT, the largest, roundest orange I'd ever seen that smelled absolutely heavenly! It was always on the very top of the stocking so I could see its brilliant color peeking out as if to say, 'Merry Christmas, sweetheart, and a Blessed and Peaceful New Year!' I would hold it gently in both hands and kiss its sweet skin. Just looking at this simple piece of fruit brought tears to my eyes, yet put a smile on my lips.

The orange had and still does have a special place in my heart since it was my Dad's favorite fruit. Baba told me that he'd even eat the peels!

Merry Christmas, Dad, and a Blessed and Peaceful New Year!
Always and forever!

One last note on our Christmas Eve dinner: By today's standards, our family's traditional meal would be considered a 'poor man's' sustenance, but we felt like royalty at my Zedo's table!

Many of Today's Women Say 'NO' to Marriage

I guess since I've been married for 51 years, I found it inconceivable that the women of today, especially in the 30-55 age group, were not interested in getting hitched. In my day, the usual age for females to wed was between 19 - 28, and if you hadn't found a man by age 30 chances are you were going to be an 'old maid'! EGADS! HEAVENS TO BETSY!

When I think of those times, back in the 50's and 60's, women didn't have the same advantages as they do currently. Our career choices were limited to becoming teachers, nursers, or secretaries. These types of jobs paid little, certainly not enough to be self-supporting homeowners. The other option was to stay at home, cook, clean, and look nice for your man. Usually the 'old maids' remained with their parents, living under their roof and rules until mom and dad passed. Only then did these 'poor souls' inherit the house which was already paid for so their responsibilities were minimal and opportunities nil.

Over the last few years, I've spoken to a number of  women who are not interested in getting married and offer viable reasons for their decision. Recently I had the pleasure of speaking with one such young lady nearing thirty, which by the way no longer carries the dreaded 'old maid' stigma, who explained in detail why marriage was not an option for her. Being college-educated, she holds a great job, manages rent, all the necessities of life and still has monies to occasionally splurge on herself, vacation from time to time, and do so without having the need to consult with a man about anything! She highly values her independence and freedom to do as she pleases and, most likely, will remain single at least for the foreseeable future.

This confident woman also told me she did not have the desire to be a mother.
These points are the gist for her reasoning:
1. Birthing a child would make her responsible for another human being for life.
2. Bringing a child in to the chaotic world we live in would make her feel extremely guilty.
3. She believed she did not have the patience for children.
4. If she were to become incapacitated, not being able to care for children would be devastating.
5. Being blessed with family members' children fulfilled any motherly instincts she possessed.

I was WOWed by the amount of time she'd spent considering marriage and motherhood. Not wishing to wed was suddenly not as inconceivable as I had previously thought, and actually was beginning to make sense!

Most of the women that were married and divorced uttered the same mantra, 'Been there, done that' and decided upon the single life henceforth.  These ladies were in the 35-55 age category, educated, career-oriented, self-sufficient, confident, and without commitment to one person. Their freedom to enjoy male company and the fringe benefits that go along with it were particularly important to all of them.

The reasons these women cited for their decision not to remarry were as follows:
1, Married too young and not ready to settle down.
2. Had to give up their aspirations in favor of their male partner making them feel less adequate.
3. Were mistreated in one way or another.
4. If having had children, fathers were minimally involved or not at all.
5. Having little to no input into how monies of the household were spent.

In most cases, marriage in their future was not even a close consideration.

After listening to all of the reasons today's women are saying 'no' to marriage, I realized they had valid objections and couldn't refute their decision. Although I still feel that marriage can be a lifelong partnership as it is for my hubby and me, filled with joy and contentment at times, discord and resentment at other times, and compromise most of the time, I now know that it's not for everyone.

For those who choose the single life, I not only support your choice, but applaud your courage to face everything that comes along with strength and conviction. I pray you are blessed with good fortune and good friends. I hope your dreams are fulfilled and life treats you kindly.

'I am Woman, hear me Roar' comes to mind...

Blessings and Peace!

The Meaning of Veteran

A veteran is someone who has 'been there, done that, and while there, did it to the best of his or her ability. You won't find this definition in any dictionary, but I've coined it so everybody who reads this blog will have a clear understanding of where I'm coming from.

I was born in 1944 when World War II was winding down. My uncle Tom was stationed in the Phillipines and was finally coming home. Years later, my Baba told me of the huge parades held in Pittsburgh to welcome our boys back from a long and devastating conflict. Uncle Tom hardly ever talked much about the war, but he had pictures stashed away in a cabinet that my brother and I loved viewing. Seeing him in his Army uniform made us so proud, he was our idol for sure. He was a veteran who gladly went to serve his country knowing that he might not come home again like so many of his buddies who gave their very lives so we would be free. I think he carried this pain of loss with him until the day he died.

My dad didn't serve in World War II because his flat feet were considered a disqualification. Some folks thought less of him which caused embarrassment and guilt. But he was a veteran none the less. Dad worked for the USS company in Homestead, PA, He was a quality assurance supervisor, a job he took great pride in and gave it his all every single day. On May 16, 1948, while checking that a 5 ton furnace door was properly installed, it came unhinged and started to fall. My dad ran as fast as he could, but tripped and was crushed from the waist down. He died three days later. At the age of 38, and a veteran of the steel mill, he sacrificed his all.

My brother, Dan, was a veteran of our educational system. For 35 years he taught History and Spanish, first at Munhall High, and later at the newly-formed Steel Valley complex. Although Dan never engaged in battle, he enlisted in the Army and was stationed in Okinawa for four years.Upon returning, he began his teaching career, able to instill love of country and the notion that when duty called, it was the responsibility of every18-year-old to gladly take up the flag. He believed it was the duty of those physically fit to defend this great land of ours which had provided all of its citizens with so much.

I too am a veteran. While serving the families in Clairton and the North Hills in the Sixties as an elementary school teacher and a nun, I diligently worked to give the children a solid foundation in reading, writing and arithmetic. In those days it was common to have a classroom of 40 youngsters without any help from an aide or coworker. After dinner, I spent time in the wee hours of the night correcting papers, preparing lessons for the next day, and devising ways to reach the needs of every student under my care. When I left the convent, I continued teaching for over 30 years in one capacity or another. I gave all I could to the best of my ability to make sure those who depended upon me to do my job were prepared to do likewise as adults in their chosen careers.

Today we are celebrating the veterans who have served in the military; those who have enlisted, worked, fought, and died for our freedom and those who currently continue to serve this great country of ours to preserve the rights of each and every American. They deserve our gratitude, our respect, and above all, our constant prayers for their safety not only on Veterans Day, but every night we bend a knee in thanks to the Lord above.

But by my definition, we are all veterans because we have been there, done that, and while there, did whatever to the best of our ability. Be proud of your service as well, no matter for how long and in what career field you gave of yourself to the fullest.

Happy Veterans Day! Blessings and Peace to all!

Who's Training Whom?

So we've had this little terror, Raven Sky Bleu, for almost two months now and are in the throes of training her to be a civilized member of our family. If you think getting a dog to pee and poop outside is the hardest and only behavior you need to perfect, you'd better NEVER decide to bring a puppy home. Raven was house-broken in less than a week. Seriously, she had one major poop in her cage and a pee on the kitchen floor....she now goes to the door signaling me that she needs to go out and has been doing her 'business' in the yard ever since.

It's the jumping up on you, scratching your arms, legs, and any other part of your body exposed, nipping your fingers and toes, putting holes in every piece of clothing you're wearing at any given time, gnawing on furniture you prize, running off your property to meet-and-greet every person or animal who happens to be walking by before you can hook her up!

I purchased two cords, a sixty footer and a twenty-fiver...hooked them together so that Raven could pretty much have the run of the backyard and still be able to join us on the patio. Two problems arose immediately...#1 no matter what, our sweet girl got wrapped around a tree, bush, chair, stump, rock, etc. and ended up crying to be released, and #2 I had to be out there the entire time to unwrap her!

After talking to a few folks about how they confined their puppies, I was convinced an electric fence was the answer...actually ordering one from Walmart. However by the time it reached the store, I had decided to return it and stick with the 85 ft cord until next spring. Dumb decision! Back to the same old, same old...wrapping, stuck, unwrapping, wrapping, stuck, crying, unwrapping, etc.!

Upon searching online for some 'miracle' device, I found this little gadget that sends out a high-pitched sound undetectable by humans, but highly annoying to dogs. No lie, within two days Raven knew her outside boundaries and adheres to them about 99% of the time. Only when my one neighbor came out whom she adores did Raven cross the line...ONCE! Now much to Raven's delight, the neighbor comes across the road to visit.

Although we're still working on some of the bad behaviors mentioned above, for the most part all I need to do is show Raven the device and she immediately ceases and desists doing whatever it is she shouldn't be doing.

I spend a lot of time training my little buddy to fetch, sit, stay, come, and a number of other appropriate actions. She's very smart and picks up these commands in a very short time.

I was patting myself on the shoulder for doing such an amazing job when something hit me...who's training whom?

Raven has taught me to get up off my butt when she stands at the door, Raven has taught me to unwrap her when she gets caught by whining and crying, Raven has taught me I needed to find an effective method of keeping her within outside boundaries, Raven has taught me how to use the device sparingly to nip her other unacceptable behaviors in the bud as well.

What I didn't realize until yesterday was that Raven has taught me that being outside playing with her for hours is so much more fun than watching the boob tube or punching computer keys! Getting exercise and fresh air is healthier too!

Now I truly believe both Raven and I have trained each other and will continue to do so for years to come!

LOOK MOM, NO MORE CORDS!

Definitely Worth Repeating!

I first wrote this post on December 11, 2017 to help someone very dear to me deal with the devastating symptoms of depression. I believed then as I do now that by sharing difficult stories of my life gives others the opportunity to learn that they are not alone and if I could overcome debilitating conditions, they certainly could too.  Unfortunately we've been taught that speaking about unmentionables such as mental illness is not appropriate and would be better to suffer in silence than expose ourselves to humiliation and isolation. Because of this societal practice today's young people are choosing suicide instead of seeking help. If they had only known that their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, friends, etc. might have suffered in the same way, perhaps these bright lights would not have been prematurely extinguished.

I urge all of you that read my post today to share it with your family and friends. Have the courage to add your own experiences to mine so together we can offer the much needed support that can literally save lives...we must start this conversation NOW!

https://grammysgangbooks.blogspot.com/2017/12/clinical-depression-what-does-that-mean.html

Blessings and Peace

Mama, Don't Let Your Boy Play Football!

After seeing Mason Rudolph get knocked out cold by #23 something Thomas of the Baltimore Ravens, I decided parents who allow their boys to engage in that kind of sport, especially at a young age, are asking for trouble. These kids idolize the home team's stars and want to emulate them before they turn four! Out of my six grandsons, three of them play football, but I'm not their mom or dad, so I can't say anything about their choices. I wish I could though.

When the camera focused on Rudolph, he wasn't moving at all. I looked at his chest and didn't see any signs of breathing. In that fleeting moment, my heart dropped, I actually thought he was dead. It took at least five minutes to revive him and two strong men to carry him off the field. According to reports, the Steeler's QB was hospitalized with concussion symptoms and his return to the team was up in the air.

I have been a football fan for over 40 years. I've cheered for the Steelers and had favorite players that, in my opinion, were unstoppable. Terry Bradshaw, Franco Harris, Jack Ham, John Stallworth, Hines Ward, Heath Miller, Big Ben were just a few of the players I ranked at the top of my 'all-time favorites' list! In the beginning of my love affair with this sport, the action was mesmerizing, Watching Stallworth catch a Bradshaw pass and gallop into the end zone was thrilling. I will never forget seeing Franco pluck the ball out of thin air, which later became known as the 'Immaculate Reception' and score a touchdown in the cold dead of winter! Heather Miller was one of the best tight ends the game ever had! For many years, he was mostly used for blocking. Miller never complained and did his job flawlessly. Towards the end of his career, Heather served as a receiver and did so with humility and grace. What a guy!

During those years, hauling a player off the field due to unsportsmanlike conduct was unheard of. I'm not even sure such a call was part of the ref's repetoire! Sure guys got hurt, a few even losing their careers due to serious injury, but their misfortune wasn't the result of intentional dirty play like it is today. There are rivalries in the league today, like the Steelers vs Ravens, where certain players intent to 'take out' their opponent even before the 60 minutes begins! These guys are huge, strong brutes who will do whatever they deem necessary to maim and mutilate, behavior not only unbecoming to a professional athlete, but disgusting to say the least! For this reason, watching football isn't fun anymore, and playing it is downright stupid!

Hopefully Mason Rudolph will recover, but I wouldn't hold it against him if he hung up his cleats for good, actually it would make me very happy to see a young man value his health more than his uncertain career. If he decides to continue, Mason will be in my prayers each time he takes the field.

As for my three grandsons, I can only hope their interests in the game will gradually wane, and they will consider being artists, scientists, entrepeneurs, forest rangers, or whatever makes them happy...and doesn't cripple them or worse!

Blessings and Peace!

Kids Deserve The Truth

As parents we want our children to grow up to be strong, accomplished men and women of good character who someday will contribute to the positive development of our society. We make sure they are fed, clothed, educated, and morally grounded in childhood so that they will have the necessary tools to do just that. We strive to be excellent role models for them, teaching acceptance, tolerance, forgiveness, and, above all, love for one another. 

However we seldom if ever talk to our kids about the mistakes we've made along our journey, shy away from exposing our inadequacies, and absolutely refuse to share the many failures we've endured over the years. Thinking such discussions would be detrimental to their development, we bury them deep within our psyche never, ever to see the light of day. 

Unfortunately these are the very experiences our children need to hear from us, but we are afraid to expose the ugly truth. God forbid they should realize their parents have made mistakes throughout life, have been less than perfect, and have FAILED to achieve goals many, many times. They need to see that we are human, that our lives have been fraught with error and disappointment.  

Muster up the courage to share the good, the bad, and the ugly of your life's story, it will do more for your children's sound growth and development than any tale of success. Start out slowly and gradually you'll shed those parental fears and be the role models your kids deserve!

'Each Story Told' is one of the poems included in my first-ever published poetry anthology, "Soul-Powered Poetry: From the Gates of Heaven to the Depths of Hell" Although I write under my pen name, Lindy Starr, every word in every stanza in every verse are the thoughts derived from listening to the whisperings of my Soul. Hopefully when reading it aloud, you'll understand what today's post is trying to convey.  Blessings and Peace

             EACH STORY TOLD

               Each story told                                                

              Of a life lived                                                   

              Is valued more than gold. 

                          

              Every milestone reached

              Is meant to teach

              Time to break the mold.                                                                       

              Be candid then

              Of course, you should,

             ‘To thine own self be true.’

                                                        

             Yes, tell the good,

             In what you speak,

             But share the ugly, too.

             Please be real

             In how you feel,

             Have courage to commit.

             By doing so,

             They will know

             To err is human, admit.

             Always striving,      

             Not merely surviving                

             Yet failures do ensue.              

             Revealing the worst,

             For the world to see

             Takes raw humility. 

                                                                              

             Expose your sins,

             Tout your wins                                            

             Perfection is but a myth.

                          

            Pressures set                                           

            Causing regret,                           

            Magically disappear,  

              

             Guilt erased,    

            Freedom they’ll taste 

            Nothing more to fear.

            Thanks will be yours

             In being so bold

            To share… EACH STORY TOLD

            https://www.amazon.com/Lindy-Starr/e/B07WS256LZ?

Sronger Than The Mighty Oak

Eight years ago we planted a mini dogwood tree in our front yard. Not paying close attention to the spot we picked, as the tiny sprout grew it began to block the walkway leading to the front door. Except for the mailman and the UPS driver, everybody we know comes to the side door which leads to the family room and the kitchen. That's where we'll usually be...watching TV or stuffing our faces!

At the end of July, after hearing my hubby complain about being smacked in the face by the dogwood's lovely outstretched branches for the umpteenth time, I grabbed the pruner and hacked away! When I was finished, all that remained was the skinny trunk and a few amputated arms. I felt horrible. I have never destroyed anything I'd planted before, heck I even catch the stink bugs in the house and throw them outside instead of drowning them in the toilet. The only living things in Nature that I will kill are flies...I hate flies!

Every morning when I would open the blinds, the ugly truth of what I'd done was staring me in the face...the skinny trunk with a few amputated arms. My self-loathing was unbearable.  How could I have snuffed out the life of one of God's most beautiful creations? Hell, there's even a poem immortalized in 1913 by Joyce Kilmer, a famous poet, that raises the statute of a tree's elegance to heavenly heights. In case you've never heard of Kilmer who happened to have been a man, or his exquisite poem, I've taken the liberty to include it here:

 "Trees" (1913)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.^{[2][3][19][n. 2]}

Twelve lines that would haunt me until my dying day, I feared!

Then, lo and behold, one day as I was pulling weeds out front, I noticed a small leaf had erupted from one of the severed arms. I rubbed my eyes and looked again just to make sure I wasn't delusional. Sure enough the leaf was real! And although it was tiny, it elevated my spirits immensely because it symbolized the incredible strength of the mini dogwood, stronger than the mighty oak in this situation,which had somehow managed to sustain the brutal attack I had inflicted upon it and was still ALIVE! Praise the Lord!

Each day more and more leaves appeared, brilliant in color, beautiful in design! When I called my hubby's attention to the fact that the tree was growing once again, I couldn't believe his response, 'I felt bad about what you did,' he murmured, ' I really liked that tree!' If I wasn't afraid of going to jail for life without the possibility of parole, I think he might have been my next victim! WHAT I DID? HE WAS THE ONE WHO GOADED ME INTO COMMITTING THIS UNSPEAKABLE CRIME FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! MEN!

Every morning now, I can't wait to open the blinds to see the progress of the mini dogwood. I marvel at how intent she is to regain her strength and grow upward and outward despite what she was forced to endure. This tree in our front yard is a constant reminder to me that no matter how much pain and desperation life throws at us, the will to live is the strongest motivation in the human spirit...we need only to tap into our Soul which is stronger than the mighty oak and certainly as strong as this mini dogwood to not only survive but to thrive!

Blessings and Peace!

'The Raven'...EVERMORE!

Sorry I'm so late with my Monday post, but our new pup, Raven Sky Bleu, takes up a considerable amount of my morning; going out to relieve herself, running thru the grass like a tornado, spying on the birds, chasing the fleeting leaves, etc. Then it's time to come in, have a breakfast treat or six, play tug-o-war for at least 15 minutes, greet Pappy, play more catch and fetch, and before you know it, it's lunchtime. And so on and so on and so on!

We were extremely lucky to get our Lab-Pointer mix from the Yukon Humane Society on Wednesday of last week. After much thought and lots of trial names, we decided upon, Raven...of course she's silky black with three white-tipped paws and one completely black. She has a white star on her chest. Raven is remarkably smart, she is almost completely housebroken and is aware of the outside yard boundaries in less than a week. This pup is crated at around 9:30 p.m. and without a whimper, is asleep until 7:00 a.m. the next morning. I kid you not!

Barry and I were sure we'd never, ever again have a dog, losing Shadow was devastating for both of us. It's only been 10 weeks since she's been gone, but it seems like forever. Yet I feel Shadow led me to Petland that day to find a pup, not to replace her, but to give us the joy we needed once more in our home. We know Shadow approves of our choice.

Having chosen the name, Raven, we never thought that Edgar Allen Poe's poem, 'The Raven' would have such a clarifying impact on us regarding the loss of Shadow and the grief that still lives in our hearts. We also never believed that the joy she gave us for almost 17 wonderful years would return. Thankfully, in the form of an independent, happy-go-lucky, inquisitive pup we aptly call, Raven, it has!

Here are two stanzas of the poem that Poe wrote in 1845 with an analysis for each of them. I've highlighted the parts that are most meaningful to the adoption of Raven.

Seventh Stanza

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

He makes an effort to fling open the window, and with a little commotion, in comes a raven. The narrator describes the raven as one who looked rather royal, and like it belonged in the righteous or impressive times of the past. The raven does not even acknowledge the speaker, and he simply flies in with the airs of an aristocrat, and rests on the statue above the chamber door of “Pallas” (also known as Athena the goddess of wisdom). Then, it just sits there doing “nothing more”.

When the character embraces the realization of the cause of his insecurity (opens the window), The raven comes flying in. The raven is the most important symbol in this poem, which explains the title. This raven is signifying the loss that the character has suffered. Through the window of realization, his loss comes flying in to face him. The raven is described to be grand in its demeanor, much like the loss of Lenore that intimidates him. He is quite fascinated by it and glorifies it. The interesting thing to note here is that the raven takes a seat on the statue of Pallas (Athena goddess of wisdom) which discloses to the reader that this feeling of loss and grief that the character is feeling is literally sitting on his wisdom. It has overpowered his rational thought.

Eighth Stanza

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

The entrance of this raven actually puts a smile on the face of the narrator. The bird was so out of place in his chamber but it still “wore” a serious expression as it sat there. The speaker then turns to treat the raven as a noble individual and asks him what his name is in a very dramatic manner. The raven simply replies with ‘nevermore’.

When given the chance to face his loss and grief so directly, it seems amusing to the character. So he speaks to the bird. He asks it’s (the bird/his grief) name, as it looked so grand and uncowardly even though it came from the world of suffering (the dark night). The raven spoke and said “nevermore”. His feelings of grief and loss (the raven) are reminding him of his greatest pain : nevermore. The raven speaks to him clearly and relays to him that what he had the deepest desire for in this life of his, is now strictly nevermore.

When I first saw Raven, I felt a tightness in my chest, she reminded me so much of Shadow. I actually walked past the cage, telling myself I should look for a dog who had no resemblance to our girl. But something made me turn around and come face to face with my grief. I know it was Shadow who had already chosen this pup for us. Instantly a smile spread across my lips as those dark brown eyes jumped up to meet me. I could see that being pent up as a shelter animal with little chance to run and play was making her sad, but she was 'grand and uncowardly.' Her energy was electrifying, her spirit, captivating! Raven was in search of someone to give her wings... 

'Nevermore' would Raven be homeless, not for one more single solitary moment...we are her forever family. 

'Nevermore' has been replaced with 'Evermore' or at least until our time together is done.

Blessings and Peace

At Least 25 More!

Today is my birthday, I turn seventy-five, and after reading this post, you'll have a pretty good idea why I'm aiming for at least 25 more years!

I received a beautiful card from my hubby on Friday because he has never been able to wait until the actual day, September 9, to give it to me. The words on the outside read:

TO MY WIFE

When I look at you
on your birthday,
I see a woman who deserves
to be celebrated
and to know
how much she means
to family and friends.

Truly I have never thought of myself as one deserving to be celebrated, but knowing that Barry thinks that I should be is heartwarming. Together we've created a family that fervently embraces caring and respect for each other. 'Family' is treasured by our three adult children and their spouses who, in turn, have instilled this precious value in their own kiddos. Their words and actions make it very easy for me to see how much I mean to all of them.

I've been blessed with five authentic friends in my lifetime, two of which are now with the angels. The remaining three are golden. All of us have known each other for well over 25 years, have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly, and still are proud to call one another, 'friend'! They mean the world to me!

The inside of the card reads:

I see a woman
who's my rock,
my best friend, 
the one I love
sharing my life with.
Most of all, when I look at you
on your birthday, 
I see love.

We have been there for each other in happy and sad times, in easy and difficult times, in uplifting and desperate times...I am his rock, he is mine!

Okay, so now you know who one of my best friends is..he never could keep a secret!

Sharing life together has been an adventure to say the least, and not all of it smooth sailing. Of course we've had amazing experiences, far too many to name. But we've had a lot of disagreements over the years, and flat out arguments that resulted in bruised feelings and silent treatments that seemed to last forever. Through it all though, we both have honored our vows, remained committed to one another, and accepted who we are as we are!

Finally when my hubby looks at me, even with curlers in my hair, he sees love. These last words bring tears to my eyes because I know who I am. Yes, I am a sweet, smiling girl with a great sense of humor who will do anything for you...at times. I'm also a feisty, ornery, self-righteous know-it-all who stubbornly refuses to go with the flo..w, more times than one can count. Most folks would call me an extrovert, but Barry knows oftentimes I will slip into my shell and stay secluded until I'm ready to come out...and no amount of coaxing can hasten the process.

And yet he sees love every day we're together, especially on my birthday.  If you are confused by this post, read it a few more times and hopefully you will begin to realize just what love is, it's all of these things...family, friends, caring, respect, humor, authenticity, commitment, and above all, allowing each other to be who they are.

My beautiful card is signed:

Have a great day! Lots of Love, Barry

No wonder I'm aiming for at least 25 more, who wouldn't!

It's my birthday...and it will be an even greater day if vanilla ice cream is included with all that love!

Happy birthday to me!

Excuse My Ignorance

Recently I decided to write a poem to educate teens on the horrific effects of smoking cigarettes (printed at the bottom of this post). I was immediately chastised for my blatant ignorance regarding e-cigarettes and vaping, the latest craze to come along. Seems as though I was the one in need of an education.

So I reached out to members of the Priceless Poetry group I founded last month, and received a number of sites focused on teen vaping and its proliferation. Although I've read all of them, I have chosen to use the stats found in the article from the Chicago's Daily Herald, 'Why teen vaping is an epidemic that needs urgent attention?'

Additionally, when retrieving the Sunday paper, yes I still read the newspaper, lo and behold, on the front page of the Tribune-Review, Westmoreland Edition, 'Doctors fear new dangers from vaping,' by Emily Balser hit me square in the face!  I was now able to provide stats from Pennsylvania as well. Divine intervention never ceases to amaze me!

According to health experts, teen vaping is outpacing substances that were formerly preferred: alcohol, marijuana, and prescribed opioids.  Nationally,  between 42% - 80% of middle school and high school students are under the false impression that nicotine is absent in vaping products and therefore much safer to smoke. However it has been shown that anywhere from zero to the equivalent of 5 cigarette packs of nicotine could be in vape pods. Because of the appealing flavors, coolness factor, and easy online accessibility, kids have adopted a false sense of security, believing vaping poses little threat to their physical well-being.

Although the short-term and long-term side effects of vaping are still being studied,  due to the extensive amount of chemicals and nicotine mixed into the e-liquids, the most common side effects include:

• Shortness of breath
• Chest pain
• High fever
• Headache and throat irritations
• Inability to sleep/tiredness
• Abnormal heartbeat
• Nausea and vomiting
• Dryness of mouth, eyes and lips
• Sensitive and bleeding gums

It has been reported that illegal drugs and e-liquids laced with THC, the substance that produces marijuana's high are being vaped, resulting in the possibility of suffering seizures, hallucinations, and compromised motor skills.

The number of teens being hospitalized nationally with respiratory ailments due to vaping is concerning. This year alone by the end of June, 94 cases of lung illnesses were being investigated by both State and Federal health agencies suspecting vaping to be the culprit. The CDC is investigating 215 possible cases of severe lung illnesses associated with e-cigarette use across 25 states, including PA, between June 28 and August 27.

There is so much more to learn about e-cigarettes and what harm vaping does to the body and brain of our young people. Unfortunately it will take time and serious effort to prove the reality of any negative consequences associated with it. Sadly teens are again being lured into suffering lifelong addiction and worse by companies such as JUUL Labs, who are lining their 'profit pockets' and black marketers who sell e-cigarettes of questionable content.

Oh, here is the poem I promised at the top of this post. Supplant 'vaping' and 'e-cig' for their respective counterparts and perhaps there is a nugget of truth to be learned.

Blessings and Peace!

                                                                                         NEVER THE FOOL?

Been smokin’ hard

Since I was ten,

Learned how

From the townie men!

I was real cool,

Never the fool.

Picked up, lit up.

Took a drag, a pull.

Became a teen,  

Oh, what a trip!

Lookin’ hip

With a cig from my lip.

The older I got,

The more I smoked.

Tried to stop,

That was a joke!

My breath smelled foul,

My clothes reeked bad,

The pallor of my skin

Turned motley sad.

Went to the dentist,

My mouth ached a lot,

My teeth were stained,

Decayed with rot.

All needed pulling,

None could be kept,

Had to wear dentures

I ranted and wept.

  

Still I puffed more,

Couldn’t stop if I tried,

Was addicted for life

Would smoke till I died.

As years went by

Wrinkles crossed my face,

Walking five steps

Was a marathon race!

Now I labor for air

Can’t breathe a lick,

COPD’s

Making me sick.

Was rushed to ER

With cutting distress,

Heart attack struck,

So showed the tests.

At age forty-five

I look eighty no doubt,

Because at ten

I took the wrong route.

Don’t smoke I say,

Not one single cig,

Doesn’t make sense,

Your own grave to dig.

I confess to you now

I was never so cool,

As you can surmise,

Always The Fool!

What I've Been Up To?

I haven't posted on my blog since November, 2018. Actually I took a hiatus from writing books for a few years and then decided to stop writing altogether. I was busy with a number of other things in my life and couldn't find the time.

One day while reading a poem I'd written for one of my best friends who passed away suddenly, I felt the need to return to my poetic roots. When I was a sophomore in high school, I was blessed to have had Sister Rosemarie as my English Lit teacher. She was this elfin lady with twinkling eyes and a mischievous spirit. At least once a week, she would read classical poetry to us.The beauty of verse captured my imagination, and when the good nun encouraged me to try my hand at it, I was very excited. For some reason, she took a special interest in my efforts and focused on developing my rudimentary skills. By the end of the year, I had a compilation of at least a hundred poems of rhyme and free style. I wish I had saved them, but unfortunately they've disappeared over time.

About a year ago, I invited a young woman I'd met at a Zumba class to partner with me in working on a poetry project. At first she flatly refused, but when I kept bugging her, she consented to giving it a whirl. She rapidly began messaging me poems; 'rabidly' probably would better describe our interaction. With every submission, her verse became more and more expressive, more and more reflective of her natural ability, more and more unique. I was so happy to be engaged with a person of her talent. Unfortunately about half way through the project we hit an impasse that would prove deadly to our partnership. Being the eternal optimist, I still believe that we will pen a poetry masterpiece one day in the future!

However, I continued to forge ahead. It has taken me longer to complete, 'Soul-Powered Poetry: From the Gates of Heaven to the Depths of Hell,' than I had expected, but for me it was well-worth the effort. Before I offer a brief synopsis of my first book for adults, I need to explain why I write...anything. I am not interested in profit and fame. In the beginning of my writing career, I wanted to both educate and entertain. Judging by the thousands of families who have purchased my children's and tween/teen books, I believe I have succeeded in that department.

The only constant in life is change. Following this old adage, in writing poetry, aside from not seeking fame and fortune, I set my sights on a different outcome. I decided that every poem written would be a personal message to someone in need of receiving it. If you don't connect with the verses, it simply is because you have no need to receive those messages.

Now for the brief synopsis I promised of 'Soul-Powered Poetry: From the Gates of Heaven to the Depths of Hell.'

'SOUL-POWERED POETRY: From the Gates of Heaven to the Depths of Hell,' unites traditional and contemporary verse. Time-honored poems utilize rhyme to incorporate a musical flow to the content of their message. This aspect of traditional poetry continues to thoroughly delight today's readers, and therefore is sprinkled within many of my offerings. Contemporary poetry relies on the more esoteric content of its message, challenging readers to dig deeper into their thought processes to understand what is being conveyed. ‘SOUL-POWERED POETRY’ is meant to do exactly what the title suggests, propel one’s soul to a power it has yet to experience!

As the subtitle of my new book suggests, the poems deal not only with lofty ideas, but also with the underbelly of life. There is some dark and heavy material presented that may repel readers who find such offerings unsettling. However, life is not all roses and butterflies, and my intention is to explore the aspects of living we are confronted with either personally or in our society. Remember I am trying to reach those in need of the message being delivered.

At this time I would like to share how I became interested in esoteric philosophy. Two years ago I was invited by another Zumba enthusiast to attend a lecture given by William Meader, an esoteric professor. Mr. Meader comes to the Pittsburgh area every October to enlighten those interested in his teachings. To say that I was blown away by his words would be a huge understatement. Although he'd only spoken for 90 minutes, his message so deep, I was completely and utterly drained  physically, mentally, and spiritually. He will be at various Pittsburgh locations this year, October 8-13.

Lastly, take note that I am writing under the pen name, 'Lindy Starr.' When my Author Page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07WS256LZ first appeared on Amazon, my former poetry cohort sent me a private message saying that 'Lindy Starr' was the moniker of a woman working in the porn industry. Shocking! I want to assure you I had no idea my adopted author ID had any such connection. Those of you who know me, would never believe I could be THAT LINDY STARR...I certainly do not have the physical attributes necessary to succeed in that business nor the inclination! I chose the name to honor my beloved constant company of nearly seventeen years, 'Shadow Lindy Starr' my beautiful, sweet dog who crossed over the Rainbow Bridge in June. Miss you, Shadow, always and forever!

I hope all of my blogger friends are happy to have me back on #MondayBlogs! Please comment whenever you have something to say be it yea or nay. I'm always glad to here from you and appreciate your support. 

Blessings and Peace

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1686870973/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_taft_p1_i0