From the Blindside

It’s Earth Day and I’ve come to the realization I am a bit OCD when it comes to boxes. I may be a bit OCD in other ways, but my obsession with boxes was born out of practicality.

Since I was 16 years old I have moved more than 22 times. At some point I lost count. Almost all of the moves were before I was 37 and since then there have only been three. I discovered relatively early on it was much easier to move when you had the original box something came in or if you saved all the boxes in which things were shipped, bought, or given, then you would have plenty of boxes when you had to move. And why would you throw away a perfectly good box?

My consideration for boxes probably began with my grandfather. Captain Charlie would take a penknife Christmas time and carefully cut the tape, remove and fold the wrapping paper as if he were going to use it again (my grandmother would have none of that), And then he would carefully cut the tape if the box had been secured with it. He would comment on the box. He would say it was a nice box or a sturdy box or he would suggest what he could do with the box before he even opened it. I did as my grandfather dead and came to value the constructed pieces of cardboard that held things so securely.

This learned obsession for boxes has been more beneficial then detrimental. Until the move from Virginia to Arizona which involves another person, I had a box for everything and had no need to go searching for boxes or buy boxes, or go find them behind the nearest liquor store. Liquor stores have some of the greatest boxes, heavy duty cardboard often with the top that fits snugly over the entire box and having dividers.

Space for storing all the boxes I sought to keep has never been an issue until now. I either did not have a lot of possessions or I had an entire house with an attic to keep my boxes safe and dry and relatively critter free. Tthough my condo has a great deal of storage space, my boxes runneth over.

So on Earth Day I find myself lugging all of my boxes, large and small, to the community dumpster in our complex that we have delivered here once a year. The recent uptick evil and having to replace carpet let me to go through everything, including many more boxes than I had imagined. Some of them very large as I had not yet gotten rid of the cardboard the heavy bag came in a month or so ago, but many of them are smaller than a bread box. I held onto the small boxes because they were sturdy,, or well-designed or I was thinking about things I could send to Bubbles that would fit in her mailbox so she would not have to go to the post office to pick them up.

I began to count all the boxes I now intended to throw away. Once I got to as many times as I had moved, it became too depressing to count any further. My cardboard footprint, which I thought I was keeping small by holding onto the boxes, reusing them over and over again, that cardboard footprint is way too large for one single human being.

And I’m sure many of you were saying recycle those boxes, but my complex does not do recycling. It’s not that we the residence and make these decisions, it’s not as if we do not believe in recycling. Yet, the cost of recycling and the fact that I live in a state that likes to think it’s all about the great outdoors would lead one to believe we are an environmentally friendly lot. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Most recycling programs and Arizona make larger carbon footprint than if we incinerated all that could be incinerated and put the rest in a landfill. Politicians do not wish to tell you this because recycling makes you feel all warm and fuzzy like you’re doing some good; here in Phoenix, you are really not doing good as our recycling program has a much larger carbon footprint benefit did not exist at all.

There are states who seem to have recycling programs that are actually are beneficial. Those states are mainly liberal and politics and their residents care not only for each other but the environment and seem to believe the world belongs to everyone and everyone must take care of it. That is not the majority thought process in the state of Arizona.

I actually gave some thought to making furniture out of all the cardboard. I learned how to do this in stage construction class in the theater department at VCU. I once made a chair that could hold a 250 pound person. It was all cardboard and cut and dovetail to fit together with nothing more than a little glue and a lot of boxes. Sadly, as much as I think cardboard furniture would be really cool, I am afraid my vision is no longer up to the task. So, I will lug my cardboard to the community dumpster which will then go to the landfill where I hope they at least take out all the metal people have put in there before bearing it into the ground in the hopes that it will rot and return to the earth in some meaningful way.

happy earth day🤨

Was the shooting of Dante Wright accidental or predictable?

The shooting of yet another unarmed black man has been described as accidental because the officer involved“Believed” she was pulling her Tayser though it is her gun she had already drawn prior to issuing the standard “taser Taser Tayser” warning. I believe the only thing that makes this an accident is that the officer in question had no intent of killing Mr. Wright. However, in Minnesota, in the United States, at this moment in time, this shooting could’ve been easily predicted if not this young man and not this particular officer, the likelihood of it happening was and remains extremely high.

Let us eliminate what it is not. It is not a lack of training. Officers in Minnesota, as well as the majority of the country, are trained to carry their Tayser on their non-dominant side. They have more than adequate training of when to pull their guns as well as went to pull the Tayser.

This is not the officer in question being in fear for her life or the lives of other officers, The general public, or even the suspect.

This is not a lack of training and how to make a traffic stop or lack of experience. The officer in question has worked on the force for 26 years. To date, I have found no previous behavior in her records that suggest she has ever used excessive force. Though I have no idea why the officer who was actually making the attempt to take the suspect into custody had his hands in position to handcuff but then chose not to do so. I am also unsure why that particular officer did not have enough knowledge to escort Mr. Wright to the rear of the vehicle away from the open driver door. But, that still does not explain why this young man was shot.

Why I believe this young man was shot and it was totally predictable: racism and fear and hatred, plain and simple. And I would add it it’s more likely to happen in Minnesota then it was in Mississippi.

Racism still exist everywhere in this country, but in general the racism in the south it’s not filled with the visceral hatred that is being displayed in the rust belt. White people, mostly men, in the Rust Belt have decided to focus all their frustration in life on people whose skin is different color from theirs. They blame people of color for not getting A job or a promotion or having $1 million in the bank or their life just not going the way they want it to. They are unwilling to take responsibility for any of their own actions and blame all their woes on people who have nothing to do with their careers our lives. Then they blame all of the country‘s problems on this big scary foe they have created in their minds. And they do this because there is a false perception of power when someone acts from a place of fear and hatred. Then it becomes a never ending loop of emotion that feeds on itself very much like the physical reaction of anger. This white folks have convinced themselves and anyone who will listen to them, that they are superior to anyone of color and that anyone of color is out to ruin their lives, to take their jobs, to date their children, to sell them drugs, to attack them physically.

In the south certain amount of racism is just except it. It’s not talked about. It’s not encouraged, nor is it pontificated, but it seems the white nationalist of the rust belt have nothing better to do and nothing better to talk about and so hate against racist what they talk about and preach on the streets, at work, in schools, and bars, everywhere and anywhere. And just like the great lie that has formed a cancer on our democracy, the white nationalist rhetoric has infected much of society. So now there is this extreme tension anytime there are people of white and any other color in the same spaces. There is suspicion and assumption and presumption and fear all wrapped up in an ignorance that has been cultivate it for decades. Black people bad, white people good…

So probably what was going through that officers mind, subconsciously, here’s a situation with a black man… I’m a white police officer… I need to be careful… Black people are bad… Police make tough decisions… Will this wind up in court… he’s black…Is he going to attack the other officer… is he going to try to escape… Am I a statistic… Is he a statistic… Is this going to make the news… He’s black… don’t pull the gun… Pull a gun… He poses a threat… He’s black… Don’t be a statistic… Pull the Tayser… He’s black… I’m white…

And probably much much more ran through her head in a matter of seconds and she did not even realize it because we are human and filled with unseen biases created by the environments around us, media, fellow workers, peer groups, social groups, etc.

I am not for one moment suggesting this particular officer is knowingly racist. From what research I have done, she is far from it. But how can you live immersed in the hatred that is swirling in Minnesota and Michigan and Wisconsin and Ohio… How can you live amongst all the hate and miss information and ignorance… How can you live where a group of white people are continually saying they are superior, they are continually saying and demonstrating they have guns to protect them selves from the scary people of color… how can you possibly not be affected in someway and not in a good way?

By her own reaction caught in the recording, the officer was surprised and shocked that she had shot the young man,, as was the other officer. But it was not accidental, it could’ve been predicted, if not that time and place, then another.

I certainly expect this will happen again and again and again… It will happen until we have convinced every white person in this country that people of color are not taking anything from them, And on the flipside, we need to convince every person of color that every white person is not out to get them, but even I, the white person, I’m having a hard time believing that one). In general, we must have some basic trust and respect for each other. This is some thing that can happen even where there is racism. A basic belief that humans are inherently good…

Good luck with that; I have been trying for years.

A bit more than 10% of the US population, approximately 35 million people,live alone. By choice or circumstance, living alone comes with its own set of mental health challenges. People who need people tend to be the majority of us, whether we live alone or not. Humans are social creatures and without social interaction if decline in mental health will occur over time. There may be a few exceptions to this, but I believe they are rare as to know about the exception usually indicates they have had some sort of human contact. Sometimes a little is all you need to get by.

I am one of those people genetically wired to need human contact. Though I have lived alone for about half of my adult life, I have always been able to fill that requirement; much of the time that need has been met by hugging Friends, sometimes strangers.

Then there is the gift of blindness the universe saw fit to bestow upon me. It is my secret weapon when human contact is at a minimum. To go almost anywhere outside of my four walls I must be with someone, a seeing eye person as I like to call them. I can follow anyone by placing my hand on their shoulder. A touch so light I have had people stop and say ‘are you still back there’ when we are in a crowd. I am also fairly proficient at picking out the touchy-feely folks and will situate myself near them or they will be the ones I engage in conversation. I would like to be a touchy-feely person myself. I think I’m pretty good at being able to tell if it makes someone uncomfortable and respecting boundaries. Yet, situations being what they are, going to touch someone and missing the intended target can sometimes be embarrassing. So I stealthily prey upon those with better aim.

I have considered pet adoption. Many people who live alone take great comfort in the company of an animal often serving as a substitute for human contact. However, I do not believe myself capable of taking care of a pet, being responsible for another life it’s hard enough when you can see. Yes, I know, lots of blind people have pets and I love pets, cats, dogs, ferrets… But I get caught up in the what if‘s; what if I sat on it, I stepped on it, or it got hurt by something I didn’t realize was out where it could get a hold of it,Or it was sick or hurt and I could not tell because I could not see. The guilt would kill me. So, no pets. I do manage to get a puppy fix every now and then as I know when a neighbor takes their pooch for a walk and if I am outside on the back stoop there is always puppy love to be had if I have planned it out.End it is a fine substitute.

So, since human contact or a viable substitute is a need I am well aware of and do a fair amount of planning to make sure that need is met. Then came a pandemic.

All of my planning went right out the window. The first thing to go was bowling.dang it! This has been one of my most reliable resources for hugs. The lion Joy bowlin, like so much in my life it has become a little more challenging and I’m not sure it’s worth the frustration. But the hugs are. What is that you say, who hugs in bowling?

I bowl on a league with some of the most amazing people in the world. I called them my bowling boys and bears. There are a few women on the league, but few of them are comfortable huggers, but the men are. They are gay, I am gay, it is not a sexual thing; it is a love thing. We give each other real hugs, the kind the touch your soul. I do not actually go to bowl, I go to hug. But since the first week of March this has not been an option.

Hugging anyone is off the table. Even the handful of times one of the bowling boys is taking me out to pick up some thing, no matter how safe I know they are, there is no hugging involved. When one of them came over to help me with a maintenance issue he really wanted to give me a hug but I would not let him. That was just about three weeks ago. It was not because I did not think it was safe. He is high risk so I know he is extra cautious. The sad fact is at this point the first person I go to hug’s going to have to deal with me being a bit of a puddle. The boys joke that they need to find me a woman to be that first hug because I would never let them go. I am starting to believe they may have something there.

Some of my friends are worried about me. It is not as if they don’t worry on the regular about the blind woman living alone in a land far far away from most of them (The majority of them live on the East Coast), but some of them have become so worried during the pandemic I have had to deal with well checks if they do not see a post on Facebook every day or for some reason I don’t answer the phone do not call them back. The latter is a real problem, since it is a rarity for me to call someone just because I’ve seen they called but they did not leave a message. This new phone etiquette thing I do not understand. If you want me to call you back, you need to let me know. But recently I have found myself purposely not answering the phone. It is a lousy substitute for human contact and it makes me miss it even more. Show my friends are worried about me and I tried to reassure them by saying I am a little worried about myself, too.

It is a pandemic. We are isolated. People are dying. If you aren’t dealing with some sort of anxiety or depression right now, then I would really worry about you. It is how we all manage to cope with it that is important.

How do you cope?

My main thing has been to try to keep routine. But that routine has dwindled down to the very basics of getting out of bed, making the bed, brushing teeth, eating some thing, doing the laundry, cleaning the condo, and I’m pretty proud of myself for keeping most of the routine.

What else do I do?

I should be writing and these words you were reading now are some of the few I have kept. I just cannot seem to string two words together that makes sense or follow thought. I cannot focus worth a dang and that is new to me. Usually, pre-pandemic, concentration is just not a problem. But now I find myself unable to even concentrate on listening to a podcast or book. I am purposely re-reading books because I know I’m going to drift off and missed things so if it’s a book I’ve already read it doesn’t matter.

I thought turning to social media might be the answer in my search for a substitute for human contact. Problem is I do not use my Facebook like the rest of the world. It’s not a social networking thing for me. I am an introvert and use my Facebook to stay in touch with the people who mean the most to me and my life for whatever warped reason that is in my head. Reaching out just for social networking it’s not my thing as it is a parent by the few people who read things on this page. If I were comfortable with social networking, it might inspire me to do what was intended and make a post at least once a week here. Expectation is a great motivator, but since no one expects it, it is easy for me to set it aside and forget about it. I find myself liking the discipline to get it done. That is new to me, as well.

A friend invited me to be in a group on Facebook. There are about 3800 people in the group and I thought it might be a good place for conversation. It is very politically oriented and politics is one of my passions, so it seemed a good thing. Somewhere to have a conversation rather than talking to the walls. I have enjoyed it. I have been here 10 years and not found anyone to discuss politics with. Most of my friends do not keep up with it and have never really been politically active here in Arizona. It has been refreshing, almost a relief, defined there are people here who enjoy, or active in, or at least have some interest in politics. But with the good comes the bad.

I find myself with tears running down my face on a regular basis and over the silliest things, kind words from a former colleague, subject matter of constitutional law, and so many memories triggered by recent political events or just a friend tag in a post…

Most disturbing, I find myself in tears when people are kind to me and I can tell they’re trying to encourage my participation. What The heck is up with that?

Between politics and the pandemic, I am on a constant emotional roller coaster. Again, something I’m not used to and that’s all I can do to hang onto the bar and enjoy the ride.

I do not believe I am unique in the situation. There are those much more fortunate to be living in a household with more than themselves, but there are plenty of us who do not and we’re making it through it one teardrop at a time.

I would really like to get lost in my writing. It feels as if that’s what I need to do, I just cannot seem to manage at the moment. But as long as I can keep routine I have hope I can get back to a space of enjoying life even when all I do is write for myself. Until then, if you’re worried about me, ask me if the bed is made.

What Trump actually did yesterday

Yesterday with the backdrop of Trump supporters who paid $350,000 to join his golf club President Trump said he was signing“Four bills.“

So he used the phrase “Bill‘s“ several times, what in fact he signed was one executive order and three executive memos. Let us take a look at each of those executive actions.

First, he signed an executive order to extend Federal unemployment for $400 per week. It was referred to as an extension, but it in fact it creates an entirely new program when you read the details. It requires states to pay 25%, or $100, of those funds. There are several problems with this executive order. First, states are not set up for this and it would take at least eight weeks to make it happen if then. Secondly, where the $300 per week of this would come from in the federal budget is unclear as it has not been appropriated by Congress. Then there is the issue of states paying $100 of those funds per week. States are already strapped as the federal government is not providing substantial funding for state and local budgets devastated by the pandemic.

As all states have standing in this matter I suspect some will gather together to file suit against this executive action.

Memo deferring the collection of payroll taxis is a transparent attempt to hurt Social security and Medicare which is where those funds go. Like the individual tax cuts of the so-called tax reform bill passed several years ago, this will make an an unnoticeable difference in peoples paychecks end it does not help the unemployed at all. Trump has always wanted to end Social Security and Medicare and this is the beginning of the end if he is reelected as he has promised to make them permanent if reelected.

The next memo defers “interest“ on student loans. This only applies to student loans that are federally backed. Furthermore, it defers the interest on these loans, not the payments. And the interest will be tacked back on when it ends.

I saved one of the best for last. A memo regarding the moratorium on evictions. First, he is not talking about the moratorium on evictions for everyone. This is only for those who rent or own property with mortgages back by federal loan programs like Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and others. That covers about 1/3 of the people facing possible evection across the United States.

But the real travesty of this memo is the word “considerer”, as this memo asks the various federal departments involved to “consider” a moratorium on evictions not actually to have a moratorium on evection.

Trump sent Mark Meadows into negotiations with marching orders to say no to absolutely everything, because he wanted to set this up for executive actions that would make him to be a hero to the American public. But the American public is beginning to get smarter about reading the details and what they actually mean. Please discuss, share, and inform on these actions designed to make the person who wishes to annihilate democracy out to be a hero rather than the divisive, destructive authoritarian that he is.

Now that all four officers involved in #GeorgeFloyd’s death have been charged our work has only just begun.

Systemic racism is ingrained in every institution in America. It will take us decades to Untangle our government and our society from a vicious web so silently… And sometimes not so silently… Woven in the very fabric of America.

Too many people across this country do not understand even the role back of EPA regulations is a racially charged decision. Contaminated water, polluted air, super fun sites… Check to see where they are worse. In minority communities where cancer rates, asthma, high blood pressure and other environmentally effective diseases run rampant.

OSHA regulations have been eliminated that protect workers in lower paying jobs too often filled with minorities. Minority children do not have equal access to education, The labor department wants to count how many people of color have jobs but they’re not telling you how many have to work two and three jobs to make ends meet, transportation department funds projects designed to destroy or cut off minority communities, and of course the department of justice is a joke at the moment in representing or protecting anyone other than white elitists.

We have a lot of work to do. It starts with your voice, your vote, and your humanity.

Three years ago I hit the pause button on my life. At that time I have been trying to get the state of Arizona to make an accommodation as I am blind. I was not asking for some costly equipment or anything outrageous. All I wanted, all I needed, was for the state to put the documents they sent me in electronic format so my screen reader could read it to me.

No, seriously, that is all I was requesting. The letters that would arrive in my mailbox… I just needed them turned into electronic format. A simple task most middle schoolers can do as you take the piece of paper put it on a scanner, scan it into A word document, create an email, and either put it in the body of the email or send it as an attachment. I waved all rights to privacy so it did not have to be encrypted as the encryption they used I could not open up. It was 2014 when I first made the request and Arizona acted as if email had just been created and no one knew how to use it.

After filing a notice with the attorney generals office in June 2017, being told they would fix the problem and they did not, I filed a federal lawsuit and represented myself (do not ever do that).

The lawsuit is now over and I lost but one In part because the federal court process took three years, the state of Arizona had time to make much-needed changes and with a federal lawsuit hanging over their heads they did make changes. I have a whole list of changes they made supposedly because of me and words from a federal court that says because of me hundreds of people will be helped. But at the end of the day I lost in court.

It was never about money, although I had to come up with a son according to directions I’m filing the notice of claim. If it had been about money, I would have taken their financial offer last year after they had already made significant changes and are now making adequate accommodations. What I really wanted was for them to admit they were wrong, admit to what they did, and an apology would have been nice. But when a senior management official in there Department of economic security (for more liberal states that would be the department of human services or social services. Money counts more than people here in Arizona)… Anyway, one of their senior management officials actually said “we serve over 1 million people. We can’t make accommodations for everybody… It’s a drain on resources.“

You may be surprised I find the most disturbing part of his comments to be that he has no clue to how many people they serve. Prior to the economic crisis caused by the pandemic, Arizona DES served approximately 2.4 million people, about 1/3 of the population in the state. How can you not know that asa top official?

Yes, that is more than 1 million, but clearly he was clueless.

mostly satisfied with the changes they have made, some not so good things came from this. Arizona DES has one of the most comprehensive ADA policies I have ever come across. It is really good and could be used as a model for other agencies. However, no one in the entire department has ever followed the policy and most employees do not even know it exists. Now, because they realize they have been caught shuffling off disabled people to the side and doing everything in their power not to make proper accommodations, they are doing away with their ADA policy. They had built a really good wheel and now they are going to reinvent it.

Part of the reinvention is adding two attorneys to the personnel department to handle accommodations for the entire agency. They brag that these two lawyers served in the civil rights division of the states attorney generals office. The attorney generals office is who I went up against in federal court. I have documentation showing the AG‘s office does not even believe they should have to make accommodations when taking a deposition. I had to file a notice with the court to get them to make accommodations for a deposition. And the lawyers they have hired are all about protecting the state, saving money, using as little resources as possible. Their focus is not on the disabled people who need accommodations. Their focus is what they can get away with not doing.

Anyway, I will not go through what it took to represent myself in federal court except to say it is all I have done for three years. Now what?

I had hit the pause button and when it was possible to hit play again it was February 28 and a pandemic was sweeping the globe, eventually shutting down every day life in Arizona. I have plenty of time to right now…

I promised my small but loyal readers I would finish the third book in the mystery series. I had hit the pause button when I was on chapter 5. I really need to get back to it as I gave my word and you are only as good as your word. But I have to be in the right space, frame of mind, in the zone… And I’m just not sure I can get there yet.

I do not want to become the political commentator. I do not want to rant and rave how I feel people have become more self-centered and selfish than I have ever thought possible in a society that supposedly values all being American… Apparently the definition of American has changed and no one told me.

I do not want to go on and on about how this sentence… “We pledged to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.“…

I believe that one sentence is the most important part of the most important document in our country‘s history. Most people do not even know where it comes from.

It is the last sentence of the Declaration of Independence. It is what the founding fathers saw as they signed their name to that document and formed this country. It is the sentiment I agree with end it is what makes the United States of America different.

As people push back against stay at home orders and complain about not getting their haircut, there are other people are embracing the sacrifices and making the best of things . this is our great depression, our World War II, our time to make sacrifice and too many people do not seem to be up to the task.

For a writer who thinks too much, this is a Time when I can easily get lost in the worst of humanity. Not where I want to write from, but after three years of reading and writing legalese, I need to get my mojo back. I need to put words on paper, virtually speaking. Need to stop lazing around concern the country is going to Hell-in-a-Handbasket, stop trying to figure out how antiabortion people who are insistent that life is sacred apparently only believe it’s sacred before it’s born, or trying to figure out how we manage to elect so many officials who think a constitutional crisis is just par for the course. And so I will move on…

I cannot promise not to write some political verbiage and for that I apologize upfront. But as always you do not have to read it. I write for myself and put it out there because it is what I have to offer.

So as the world around me hits the pause button, I lift my finger from one pause button and press play. Hope you will play with me.

I have been writing. The problem is I have not been keeping what I have been writing. The delete and backspace keys have been worn down to nubs. I will not keep what I believe is crap, nor do I wish to subject my readers to something even I cannot stomach.
I have put out very little in the past year and a half, the next novel in my mystery series keeps getting deleted back to chapter 4, and my inability to write good words is driving me over the edge. I have tried a host of things and now I try this…

A friend had given me a ride to the store and when she dropped me back home, she started to pull out of the driveway and then stopped and yelled something back to me.

“What?” I asked and began to walk to where she had pulled out onto the street.

“I have a message for you; I almost forgot,” she replied.

“A message? From who?” I asked at the same time she said “write what is in your heart.”

“What?” I asked again as I thought I had misunderstood her.

“Write what is in your heart, not what is in your head. Write for you, not others.”

“I always right for me and do not consider an audience-”

She cut me off. “Write what is in your heart. That’s the message.”

“From whom?” I asked in a state of confusion.

“You know, things just come to me. Bye,” She yelled out the window as she pulled away.

I stood in the 116° heat of an Arizona Spring day as what she had said melted into coherent thought. She is not, nor does she claimed to be, a psychic of any type. Yet there have been times when she has pronounce things that have “come to her” which are spot on, happen in the future, or are solutions to a present problem. Somethings the makings of good short stories, but for now you just have to trust, as I do, when she says she has a message for me; I do give it considerable thought.

This information exchange has been rolling around in my head for weeks as I am still writing and deleting. And I think I may have finally figured it out. I cannot write what is in my heart at the moment as it goes against everything that is me.

You see, I have love in my heart for every single human being, every living creature, and for me this is no cliché. Yes, Love in my heart for family, friends, strangers, murderers, terrorist, every person who has done me good and done me wrong, and, most importantly, I have love in my heart for myself.

I hear the chorus of “bullshit” out there, but it is true. I do not claim to be a sage for the ages. I do not preach it or feel the need to share it on every occasion. In fact, I have shared it with very few.

This did not come overnight. It took almost 3 decades, but I felt it was necessary as I saw what hate did to other people and knew what it did to me. For many years there was one last hold out, but I finally had found a way to have love in my heart for my father. No, I do not blame him for problems in my life, but I hated him, hated his alcoholism, hated his abuse, and hated the man he was. But I did find a way to love him, to truly have love in my heart for that human being. There is a story there, too, but again one for another time.

I had accomplished what I needed for me. No one else needed to know and very few noticed. I do not even say”I hate you” in jest, Do what I can to use the word dislike, and every now and again someone does notice, Asks, and rolls their eyes when I explain.

What has this to do with my writing, you ask and even if you did not, I will enlighten.

Everything I write comes from my heart. Novels, short stories, haikus, this blog , even my tweets. It is, in my opinion, what makes my words worth reading. When you laugh out loud or get choked up as you read one of my One of my works know I had the very same emotion, often in tears, as I write. Tears of joy, sadness, anguish, I believe my emotion, my heart, is the very core of my words. So why can I not write a keepable word now?

There is hate in my heart. It crept back in when I was not paying attention. Not because of the times we live in, the hate some people wish to stir, but hate on a very personal level as all hate actually is.

The whole story behind the unleashing of the soul eating monster back into my life is too long for here and would not make a good story. In brief, I put everything into the life I was building with another person, emotionally, financially, spiritually, and physically, only to have that person leave once the money was spent, they had drained my emotions, discarded my spirit, and did not want to deal with my physical limitations. The latter I do not blame them for as I myself do not like living with my loss of eyesight. And I am not sure they are to blame for the emotional and spiritual drain, and there was no gun at my head when we made decisions together to spend my cash on children, education, travel, and a new home. My decisions would have been different had I known there a plan, but with the given information I did what I believe to be right. Moreover, I hold no resentment for her having to “find herself”, sometimes things do not work out and there that is.

So where did the hate come from, hate that wells up in me even when I talk about her. There was no hate several years ago on Christmas morning when she said she was leaving, None as we divided assets, kept up with what was going on in each others lives. But then The one thing I was most worried about, the security of having a home, one tthe blind person could function in, One where I felt safe, the one thing she could do to turn my life upside down, she did. But it is not even the cause of the hate.

For three years she lied every time we talked. I, still trusting her, believed her each and every time. Do I hate that we are going to have A long and tedious legal battle, possibly setting legal precedent, One which will drain us both financially and me spiritually?

No, what I hate is she is lying once again, I hate that she has destroyed my trust to the point of where I am unsure I can ever trust someone again. I hate she is threatening my sense of security and safety in the world, hate she has destroyed my trust and confidence in myself.

She could possibly help a little by admitting she lied and is lying still, but that would not help her out legally and I’m not sure that would help me out spiritually.

Most of all I am devastated I have allowed her actions to bring hate back into my life. I cannot write a decent words with hate in my heart. It is my hope by expressing it here, by working it out with oneof the one thing I can still do, that I can rid myself of the hate and forgive myself for letting it back in…

Hate Will and does damage your soul, the very essence of your being. It will never allow you to be truly happy, it will shade the joys and laughter, affect every relationship be it family, Friend, coworker, or stranger on the street.

Here’s to hoping we all can put that nasty little genie back into it’s toxic bottle and put a cork in it!

After 146 years of the lighting and exciting crowds, Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus is are no more.

The end of this iconic traveling show makes me so very sad.

I understand the animal’s Rights advocates point of view, but they never seem to understand mine. Treatment of animals has greatly improved and, though the present government wishes to takeaway regulations in so many areas, here is where regulations or a necessity. However, the opportunity of young people to see these majestic, exotic, and endangered species live is the best opportunity to have them care about what happens to these animals in the wild.

Countless numbers of activists, biologist, environmentalist, and others in animal inspired professions began their wonderful obsessions and passions with seeing the animals live. As with zoos, circuses limits on only having animals bred in captivity or rescued only helps Louis in the wild, not hurt them.

We must be realistic and acknowledge there are a few governments or corporations who actually care about preserving species. They only care when large Numbers of people speak out and if you don’t keep speaking out, they will care today and let them die tomorrow or help wipe them out.

How will we inspire the next generation of those in animal related professions?

Television, movies, books, and other media sources Will provide inspiration to some degree. Yet there is nothing like going to the zoo or an animal performance to truly appreciate creatures of the wild. The critics answer is to go see them in the wild, but we all know that leads to many other problems as the wilderness they live in cannot sustain large populations of careless humans. And how many young people actually ever have those kind of opportunities?

Is it okay that only the privileged have such an opportunity? 

If the answer is yes, then I guess the discussion is over. If the answer is no, Then what can we do, ethically, humanely, to afford this opportunity to the masses?

Like so many others, my childhood included many trips to the zoos and circuses, small and large. At these times I was filled with joy and also sadness as my heart aches for creatures who are caged. However, now that I have lost my eyesight, having those memories, knowing what those animals look like, how they behave, and how we interact with them, Especially how absolutely brilliant some animals are, is the things that inspires me most to be supportive of preservation efforts.

There have been no media outlets for animals as comprehensive, thorough, and noninvasive, without ridiculously silly or hype-Scripted commentary since my childhood beloved mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. Where is Marlon Perkins when you need him.

I never want to see an animal mistreated, but I want everyone to have the opportunity to know them and love them as so many of us do.
Confessional way, I admit my favorite part of the circus was always the clowns. Something I did not have to inspired to be, but often I am naturally. Today I shed tears of a clown with no one else around.

I am well aware my books need a better edit. Unable to see what I am writing and having an auditory distortion, best described as hearing dyslexia, it is extremely difficult for me to catch the mistakes when using speech-to-text. Yet, when I am able to have my work professionally edited, I only want editing for mistakes/typos and punctuation I forget to speak out loud. I do not want an edit for content or style.     

I don’t mean to be a literary snob, but if I have someone telling me to develop a character more, transitions are too gradual or too short, or I need some sub-plot, then am I the creator of the work or does it become a collaboration for which credit should be shared?

I’m not knocking any writer who has an editor edit for content/context , but, for me, if I cannot write well enough for people to enjoy without a content editor, then maybe I should not be trying to write for a living. However, there is a new kind of editing creeping into the literary market which I have a huge objection to. Sensitivity editing is political correctness gone awry.

Yes, you read it correctly. Sensitivity editing is starting to become a thing. These editors make sure you have not written anything to offend anyone. These editors will correct your use of language, cultural references, and even implicit bias you may not even know you have. Of course, if you are intentionally offending someone, these edits may not be for you.

I am trying to figure out why these edits would be for anyone, writers or readers, on the fictional side of literature. 

  As a writer I would hope I research thoroughly enough not to blatantly offend someone unintentionally in my fiction. But what if I do, would it not have value?

Anything I write gives some insight to my background, my culture, the way I think. Would my voice as a writer be any different than anyone else’s once scrubbed clean by a sensitivity editor?

 Imagine Oscar Wilde, Michener, Hemingway, Stephen King, or even Faulkner re-done by a sensitivity editor. Samuel Clemens would seem to drone on once scrubbed clean by a sensitivity editor. Fiction documents culture and all it involves: language, religion, education, music, art, government, etc.; moreover, literature documents when cultures clash, whether it is the writer’s intention or a natural occurrence as they delve into cultures not their own.

  And as an avid fiction reader, I find the concept of sensitivity editing a threat to my favorite form of entertainment. When I read something I find offensive in fiction it may just be from the characters point of view, which gives the character depth, or it may be because of the writers point of view, still giving dimension to what I was reading. Differences make the world go round and if there are not differences in literature I might as well just read the stock report for entertainment.

 Some suggest sensitivity editors are needed for children’s and young adult literature; I think if you are worried about offending the youth of the world, then do not write books intended for them. 

 I will not name them, but there is a relatively new and well received author whose latest novel is being edited by a sensitivity editor. In an interview the author said they were having it done as they were writing in a voice that does not come from their own culture. All I can think is what we will be missing: The voice of one culture through the perspective of another; it has great value in helping us to understand and question each other. Though it may not be fair, I do not wish to read this book simply because I know it has been edited for what could be referred to as social faux pas.

  There are offensive, politically incorrect things in The Cat in the Hat, but I would still recommend it for any child and it certainly did me no harm. And, if it were not for the insensitivities within, Shakespeare would not have stood the test of time.

I love the flavor purple. I’ve loved it since I was a child, purple popsicle, purple suckers, purple Kool-Aid. But where exactly does the flavor purple come from?Logic would say the flavor purple comes from a grape, Since that’s how many purple items are labeled. Yet, I have never had a purple flavored grape.

One could argue I have been eating the wrong type of grape. I do not find this a valid argument as I love grapes and the grapes that you would associate with the color purple are my favorites, the black grapes and the Concorde. However, for all the countless pounds I have devoured over the years, not one of them has tested purple.

On my own, totally by accident, I have found the flavor purple and it is not in a grape. 

Living alone and grocery shopping once, sometimes twice, a month, I tend not to buy a lot of fruits and vegetables. But when fresh blueberries are on sale for eighty-eight cents a pint, I buy as many as they allow and freeze them. No, not every blueberry taste like purple. You have to know the trick. A trick I would not have discovered had it not been for blueberries going on their wonderful sale much earlier than usual. I tend to eat the frozen blueberries as a treat on a warm or hot day, otherwise they get dumped into oatmeal, pancakes, or muffins. But my favorite way is totally unadulterated. When it is icold outside, as much as I want the blueberry, frozen is a chilling thought. So I warned them up.

I put a few handfuls of frozen blueberries in a bowl and pop them in the microwave. Thirty seconds to a minute is long enough to take the chill off depending on the size of the bowl.

I do not bother to stir them and the other day I put a rather small bowl of blueberries in and turned the microwave on. I got distracted and let it go for a full minute which I knew might be a bit much for a small bowl. I am just as fond of warm blueberries on a chilly day as I am of frozen ones on a hot day.

I settle down in a patio chair to enjoy my bowl of warm blueberries and took in a little sun. Many of the blueberries were a little squishy from being warmed up. The squishiness got more intense towards the bottom of the bowl where they heat up the most in the microwave. When I got down to the very last blueberry I picked up one that was almost totally liquid inside and popped it in my mouth.

It was purple!

I’m not talking a little purple, not speaking of a hint of Welches grape juice or grape pop tarts. I am talking purple. That wonderful sweet fruity purple. A childhood flavor memory so strong the scene, multiple scenes, flashed through my mind: my mom and me in the car on a Friday afternoon, stopping by the bank, The teller already knowing my favorite flavor, and then enjoying a little purple with my mom on the way home.

Curiosity peaked, I am now on a hunt for the flavor red…