Censored in Washington, D.C.?

What an evening. I was on the phone call listening to Sen. Elizabeth Warren and people who have worked with her to preserve financial protections for our citizens. Then, I sat and watched Pres. Obama give his goodbye speech. Such an emotional scene.
All the while I was processing what I'd read about the possibility that there are videos of Big T with prostitutes and information about his financial ties to Russians. What proof? We don't know, but we do know whatever they have was strong enough for Pres. Obama to kick out Russian spies from the United States and impose sanctions against certain individuals. There is ENOUGH information to do that.
The drama has only just begun. I am sure we're going to hear a LOT more before this is over. The most suspicious little detail is that Melania is not moving to Washington, D.C. until -- maybe -- spring. She is staying in New York. Her excuse? Her child is in school.
Hey, they have schools in D.C., too. Lots of them -- and tutors, too. I think it is more likely that she is REALLY pissed off with the Big T.

Female Dogs Deserve Respect

I would like to propose that the word "bitch" be officially removed from words considered insults and inappropriate for polite speech. As I thumbed through at an art book today, I came across a magnificent painting of a Pomeranian Bitch. What a beautiful creature -- besides being a fine painting. And dogs as a class -- with few exceptions are far superior to human beings. When they are your friends, they will stand by you to the death. What dog pretends to love you and is a dirty dealer? And to pick on female dogs as being beneath our contempt? Has anyone watched a mother dog care for her young? Sorry, using the word as an insult just doesn't wash for me.

In the future, I can imagine using the word "bitch" as a compliment.

Of Men and War, a movie that will touch your heart

What's on my mind? I haven't been able to forget the powerful movie I saw last night at the Plaza Theater in Midtown: OF MEN AND WAR. It was written and directed by Laurent Becue Renard and Atlanta's own Izzidore Bethel. 

What a film -- more than a documentary -- intimate conversations with men who had been through the Iraq war and were still suffering serious PTSD. There were so many situations they encountered in battle that wouldn't leave them in peace after they returned home. 

Caring, thoughtful therapists have helped them cope so they could return to their homes and their families without being a danger to themselves or others. EVERYONE should see this.

A 52-Hertz Whale by Bill Sommer and Natalie Haney Tilghman

     Bill Sommer was selling his book at the Wherehouse this weekend and I HAD to have a copy. It has come highly recommended. And it was everything I expected -- and then some.
     Last night I was up until almost two in the morning. I couldn't put this book down and had to finish it. The format is so very clever. Emails go back and forth between several friends and lovers. It's like you're getting into your own email and you have to see who has written to you -- and what they have to say.
     There wasn't a single soft spot where the plot slowed down or left me wanting. I began to know these people -- could have recognized them if I saw them on the street.
     One of the characters is a documentary film maker. I've been there, know the territory and really could sympathize. And who hasn't been through high school? Enough said, right?
    The development of these characters is brilliant. And the idea of two writers sending their contributions back and forth and building up the suspense -- never have seen anything like it.
    Thank you Bill -- and thank you Natalie. A great read.

A Long Road to Wisdom

Book Review: "Learning to eat along the way" by Margaret Bendet

      This is a no holds barred book. Margaret Bendet bared her soul. Turning the pages and staying up late into the night to make sure I read every single sentence, I took part in the struggles and victories she experienced.
      Years ago, when I was one of the feature writers on the Honolulu Star Bulletin she was my editor. There was no way I could have predicted that she would follow a swami and abandon her job. Indeed, there was also no way any of us could know how much pain she was concealing.
Margaret’s honesty can take your breath away. Her ability to express herself with heart stabbing clarity puts the reader in the center of her world. We can see the swamis and hear their wisdom. What’s more, we can feel how much they understood her struggles.
      In addition, there is a thread that weaves itself throughout the fabric of this woman’s life – and is so common in the female experience. Women in our culture are brain washed to believe that their ability to be loved is so dependent on their appearance that many choose to diet themselves to death rather than remain unloved.
       Even worse is that the culture doesn’t value the female child as much as the male. It doesn’t matter whether a female is as bright or as talented as the male – or more so. We may be able to point to slight improvements over the decades since Margaret entered the ashram, but we are made painfully aware that the advances are not nearly what they need to be.
        As we follow this woman’s path to health and self appreciation, we cannot help but cry for all the rest of us who have felt the same pain, but perhaps manifested it in different ways.
       Thank you, Margaret “Peggy” Bendet for caring enough to share so much.
                                                                                               ###

Atrocities in Afganistan -- and the U.S. Doesn't Intervene!

It was one of the worst news stories...The NYT carried a front page article last week -- and I haven't seen a single mention of it on FB. It's haunting me -- U.S. troops in Afganistan have been given orders not to intervene when our Afgani allies go into a village and rape young boys.

The boys can be heard screaming the article said. In my head, I'm hearing their screams over and over again!! What does this do to the morale of our soldiers who have no choice in the matter. They are given orders they must obey. Put your life on the line for these people? Be complicit by not objecting? It's an awful situation we have created for our men -- and women -- who are out there on the front lines.

WHAT ARE WE DOING?? What about the Geneva Convention? This is as bad as ISIS!!! We should all be pounding on the doors of our so-called government officials. Stop this! Stop pouring money into Afganistan and giving these people permission to perform atrocities. Taking pleasure in harming young boys! It makes me sick!!! And our having a part in this. Where are all those people who oppose gay marriage??? Find a REAL cause.

"CAll the Midwife," My Review of Jennifer Worth's Memoir

R                           Review of “CALL THE MIDWIFE, Jennifer Worth’s Memoir

                                                                              By

                                                               Loretta Paraguassu

        Reaching the last page of this engrossing memoir is like walking away from a neighborhood where you have settled in and become part of people’s lives. Worth carefully stitches together her experiences as a midwife living in the 1950s with nuns who gave their lives to God and to child-bearing women in the poverty-stricken east side of London.

        The reader rides with Jennie Lee on her bicycle through the neighborhoods and learns – in detail – what it was like and what she encountered. She also schools us on the details of her practice – the  instruments she used, how babies were delivered then, the long hours she spent and the emotional involvement it took.

        Having watched a number of “Call the Midwife” episodes produced for television by PBS – based on the book, of course – there were any number of “oh, that’s what it really meant” or “now I understand why that person reacted the way he or she did” – awakenings after plowing through the book. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was as simple and straightforward as the TV rendition would have you believe.

        It would be wrong to say that the PBS version does the book a disservice. However, the depth of the characters and their motivations are clearly impossible to communicate in scenes that flicker past in rapid rotation. It took courage to attempt as ambitious a project this one and the television version does an excellent job of bringing Worth’s world back to life.

        For instance, there were more shocks and surprises about babies that were born black – and one that might have been black. We get a picture of immigrants coming into the neighborhoods and repercussions in personal lives. It’s a very interesting part of history that is rarely explored. With the luxury of more time and space, the written version presents this issue in a way that explains the bigger picture.

        There are also revelations that some of the glitzy, romantic scenes we see on the television screen weren’t based on the original book. (Surprise?) The relationship between Jennie Lee and Jimmy? Don’t look for it in the memoir. Chummy and her romance with the constable? Also, not to be found. Even the girls going out to a dance together -- if it happened, Worth wasn’t sharing. Some of it is “prettified” and probably has to be for the sake of keeping an audience on board.

       The very dramatic kidnapping of a baby by a young woman Irish woman named Mary is powerful on-screen. Once again, the depth of Mary’s story is far more powerful in the book. The reader is given insights into her background and her relationship with Jennie Lee that television simply doesn’t have the time or structure to present.

       Worth’s book is, indeed, a very well-written, page turner. It’s hard to say it’s “better“ than the television series. It comes down to simply being a different animal. Anyone who has enjoyed the television series should enjoy the book – and vice versa.

                                                                                   ###

The Great Meryl Streep Tosses a Crumb to Women Writers

There was a big to-do about Meryl Streep funding an "older" women's screenwriting lab. There was a big announcement at the Tribeca Film Festival.

Actual Queen Meryl Streep Has Funded a Screenwriting Workshop for Women Over 40

Women make up about 29% of TV writers and a miserable 15% of film writers, and you know who's...

 

 

It turns out that older to Ms. Streep is over 40. Great. In the real world that's not very old at all.

 

Then, we have to take into account that only eight -- numeral 8 -- women will be chosen. And exactly what kind of impact is that supposed to have?

 

 Actually, that's pretty pathetic and not likely to net much in the long run. I'm disappointed -- but not surprised. The fact that this famous and successful actress has lent her name to the cause IS a big deal, but still...shouldn't there be more?

 

Who else is going to stand up and make a gesture? I'm reading all kinds of notices about actors and actresses selling their New York properties for multi-millions. No give-back.

Kudos to Selma, the film

SEEING SELMA:


     Let's set the scene -- The theater is one of those comfortable, new theaters with waiters who come to your seat and serve you food and drinks. It's plush and the screen is close and clear.

     Although we had menus, neither I nor the two friends I was with ever pushed the button for service. We hadn't had dinner, but the drama on the screen was too intense. We didn't want to miss a word, a phrase or a gesture.

     I'm so glad I didn't go alone. It's that much of an emotional experience. When it was going on, I knew people involved in the march -- and even considered going. Wow! As I watched the crowd scenes -- I was struck by the fact that there seemed to be more women than men.

     The people with me who had been close to the movement nodded when I mentioned this. Yes, it was true. It's hard to sort it all out. Hard to believe that the racists could be such horrible animals. What kind of a man beats up mothers and grandmothers? No soul, no soul at all.

      Are there still racists? Oh, yeah. The hope, and I have said this before, is that they are dying out and that our younger generations recognize the reality: We are all biologically the same. No skin color is superior.

     If there could be mandatory viewing, I would wish that everyone would see this film -- to know what happened, to feel it to the bone.

     An irony in the name of the film is a close personal connection -- My mother's name was Selma. On top of that, my parents were married in Selma, Alabama during WWII because my father was stationed there.  The name "Selma" rings in my ears.

Living in a State That Kills

It's a rainy, sad day. Last night the State of Georgia murdered a man, they substitute another word, but it's murder and it fills me with grief that this happens regularly. This man was guilty of killing someone -- but he was also a war hero and damaged by his experiences in the service of his country. He was taught to kill! Shame on Georgia. Shame, shame, shame!

We are barbarians and much of the civilized world recognizes us as such. In this and so many other ways, we do not deserve to consider ourselves part of the group of first world countries -- even if we do have a mega-rich class and lots of weapons we are able to hoard. Not civilized enough. Not hardly.

It makes my heart ache as I look out into the wintry fog and feel old and tired.

Is the problem really about race or is it about our culture?

     What has been going around in my head today is a reaction to a facebook post by someone I deeply respect. He didn't want to hear any more about the reactions to the killings of black young men and the lack of judicial response.

      It was a jolt to me. I started thinking -- this is not just about black males. It is much more than that. When my two sons were teenagers, there was a gathering of their friends in our suburban kitchen. Someone commented that everyone in my house -- except for me -- had been arrested -- even our dog. None of the boys were criminal types. (The dog was bailed out -- he had been a hero protecting a young woman who was being attacked.)

     We live in an environment where police are overly zealous. For example, I don't drink, but I was stopped for not having my headlights on.  The police woman was clearly disappointed that she couldn't get me on a DUI. What is going on? Years ago, a cop would have politely advised this grandmotherly person that she needed to turn her lights on. Instead, I faced a hefty fine and a trip to court that took most of my day.

     On the highways, there are towns that make their budgets by catching speeders. And they're famous for it. All these little infractions bring in money, too. And there are the prisons that are for profit enterprises. Far too many people are locked up for too long, many of them for little or no cause. Money, money, money.

     It strikes me that the police who are sent out to do the dirty work are patsies. They don't get paid much, they're in the line of danger and many people hate them for what they do. What is all this about? Abroad we are the policemen of the Western World. At home, we're selling military equipment to our towns and cities.

     NRA mentality has gone much too far. When we look in the mirror, we are not a pretty sight.
To claim we are civilized, we must make sure that we are.

Margaret Bowland's Paintings Pull on the Heartstrings

 

                                                       Painting by Margaret Bowland

New York artist Margaret Bowland stood in front of a mesmerized capacity audience at Alan Avery's gallery in Buckhead yesterday. The shock for those who were not familiar with her was that Bowland is white and paints as if she has crawled inside the skin of a black woman and felt the pain.

Her message to listeners was that she uses white makeup not to deny color, but rather to draw attention to the undue notice that is taken of it. She grew up in the South and saw the segregated drinking fountains -- and all the rest of what went with them -- and was conscious very early at how wrong it is to treat people that way.

However, Bowland underlines that is not just color that is the problem, it is the way women are treated. She pointed to the expectations posited with the concept of a woman becoming a wife. In particular, Bowland emphasized the sacrifices that a woman is supposed to make.

Further, she examines the burdens that have, historically, been put on children. In one of her paintings, a crown of cotton with its thorns is symbolic of those trials.

And, why she asks, should women of African descent put extensions on their hair? Pointing to her own hair that hangs down, she asked her audience why that should be considered any better. She has her model pulling out hair extensions with a very determined expression on her face.

Besides the messages in Bowland's work, there is the awesome beauty she has captured. She is a portrait artist of enormous skill. Instead of seeking to mimic modern techniques, she sought out the secrets of the masters. It wasn't easy, she said. The information wasn't readily available.

The result? Exquisite images with a rare depth of emotion. Bowland is a modern master of her craft...or should we say mistress? In our world, women still have to struggle to get their due.

It would be no surprise to find museums waking up and scrambling to collect her work. Several museums have already acquired a few treasures. Living in Atlanta, I would, personally, love to see  examples of Bowland's portraits on display in the High Museum.

The Margaret Bowland exhibit at Alan Avery Art Company will be on display through Jan. 17, 2015.

                                                            Artist Margaret Bowland

                                 Margaret Bowland (2nd from L), Alan Avery (2nd from the R)
                                                  

COMCAST'S LITTLE WHITE LIE -- and LOTS OF NERVE!

    An interesting little event this morning: I found my internet and landline were both out. Comcast was down. I was frustrated at not being able to check my messages and start my business day, so I called on my cell and got a message that Comcast services would not be restored until after 1 p.m.

    Then...a friend called me on my cell and said that she had tried my landline first -- only to get a message telling her that Loretta was not taking calls until noon. THAT WAS COMCAST LEAVING A MESSAGE FOR ME! THAT I WAS NOT TAKING CALLS! Not that Comcast was DOWN!!!

    In fact, I do not have a message on my landline at all. What corporate nerve.

    It's very interesting that this episode coincided with Pres. Obama's interest in making net neutrality the law of the land.
I'm sure Comcast executives were in a bad mood anyway, maybe
someone threw a tantrum and hit the wrong switches. I'm not sure it's possible -- but it would play well as the drama of the day.

FRAUD AND DECEPTION ABOUT ORDERING E-CIGS!!

Waking up to another fraud on my bank account. ALERT! I ordered an e-cig offer that was too good to resist. For $4.99. Okay. Amazon charged me that and the package came in the mail. Today, I have a charge for $99.99 against my checking account. The banker is telling me that's because I didn't read the fine print. The $4.99 was only for shipping and handling. The PRICE -- undisclosed -- or not obviously disclosed -- is $99.99. Now, I have to get back to the company, cancel the order, mail it back and then wait at least 15 days before I can dispute the charge with my bank. Something I really didn't need. Everyone -- heads up!!

What is different about a woman's heart attack?

Women often don't suffer the same dramatic symptoms as men when they have a heart attack. A friend just sent me a nurse's description of a female heart attack and it's right on! I wrote a book about heart disease and heart surgery for a surgeon and heard all about this...over and over and over again.

 

A Nurse's Best Description of a Female's Heart Attack

I am an ER nurse and this is the best description of this event that I have ever heard. Please read, pay attention, and send it on! FEMALE HEART ATTACKS I was aware that female heart attacks are different, but this is the best description I've ever read. Women rarely have the same dramatic symptoms that men have ... You know, the sudden stabbing pain in the chest, the cold sweat, grabbing the chest & dropping to the floor that we see in movies. Here is the story of one woman's experience with a heart attack. I had a heart attack at about 10:30 PM with NO prior exertion, NO prior emotional trauma that one would suspect might have brought it on. I was sitting all snugly & warm on a cold evening, with my purring cat in my lap, reading an interesting story my friend had sent me, and actually thinking, 'A-A-h, this is the life, all cozy and warm in my soft, cushy Lazy Boy with my feet propped up. A moment later, I felt that awful sensation of indigestion, when you've been in a hurry and grabbed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with a dash of water, and that hurried bite seems to feel like you've swallowed a golf ball going down the esophagus in slow motion and it is most uncomfortable. You realize you shouldn't have gulped it down so fast and needed to chew it more thoroughly and this time drink a glass of water to hasten its progress down to the stomach. This was my initial sensation--the only trouble was that I hadn't taken a bite of anything since about 5:00 p.m. After it seemed to subside, the next sensation was like little squeezing motions that seemed to be racing up my SPINE (hind-sight, it was probably my aorta spasms), gaining speed as they continued racing up and under my sternum (breast bone, where one presses rhythmically when administering CPR). This fascinating process continued on into my throat and branched out into both jaws. 'AHA!! NOW I stopped puzzling about what was happening -- we all have read and/or heard about pain in the jaws being one of the signals of an MI happening, haven't we? I said aloud to myself and the cat, Dear God, I think I'm having a heart attack! I lowered the foot rest dumping the cat from my lap, started to take a step and fell on the floor instead. I thought to myself, If this is a heart attack, I shouldn't be walking into the next room where the phone is or anywhere else... But, on the other hand, if I don't, nobody will know that I need help, and if I wait any longer I may not be able to get up in a moment. I pulled myself up with the arms of the chair, walked slowly into the next room and dialed the Paramedics... I told her I thought I was having a heart attack due to the pressure building under the sternum and radiating into my jaws. I didn't feel hysterical or afraid, just stating the facts. She said she was sending the Paramedics over immediately, asked if the front door was near to me, and if so, to un-bolt the door and then lie down on the floor where they could see me when they came in. I unlocked the door and then laid down on the floor as instructed and lost consciousness, as I don't remember the medics coming in, their examination, lifting me onto a gurney or getting me into their ambulance, or hearing the call they made to St. Jude ER on the way, but I did briefly awaken when we arrived and saw that the radiologist was already there in his surgical blues and cap, helping the medics pull my stretcher out of the ambulance. He was bending over me asking questions (probably something like 'Have you taken any medications?') but I couldn't make my mind interpret what he was saying, or form an answer, and nodded off again, not waking up until the Cardiologist and partner had already threaded the teeny angiogram balloon up my femoral artery into the aorta and into my heart where they installed 2 side by side stints to hold open my right coronary artery. I know it sounds like all my thinking and actions at home must have taken at least 20-30 minutes before calling the paramedics, but actually it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before the call, and both the fire station and St Jude are only minutes away from my home, and my Cardiologist was already to go to the OR in his scrubs and get going on restarting my heart (which had stopped somewhere between my arrival and the procedure) and installing the stents. Why have I written all of this to you with so much detail? Because I want all of you who are so important in my life to know what I learned firsthand. 1. Be aware that something very different is happening in your body, not the usual men's symptoms but inexplicable things happening (until my sternum and jaws got into the act). It is said that many more women than men die of their first (and last) MI because they didn't know they were having one and commonly mistake it as indigestion, take some Maalox or other anti-heartburn preparation and go to bed, hoping they'll feel better in the morning when they wake up... which doesn't happen. My female friends, your symptoms might not be exactly like mine, so I advise you to call the Paramedics if ANYTHING is unpleasantly happening that you've not felt before. It is better to have a 'false alarm' visitation than to risk your life guessing what it might be! 2. Note that I said 'Call the Paramedics.' And if you can take an aspirin. Ladies, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE! Do NOT try to drive yourself to the ER - you are a hazard to others on the road. Do NOT have your panicked husband who will be speeding and looking anxiously at what's happening with you instead of the road. Do NOT call your doctor -- he doesn't know where you live and if it's at night you won't reach him anyway, and if it's daytime, his assistants (or answering service) will tell you to call the Paramedics. He doesn't carry the equipment in his car that you need to be saved! The Paramedics do, principally OXYGEN that you need ASAP. Your Dr. will be notified later. 3. Don't assume it couldn't be a heart attack because you have a normal cholesterol count. Research has discovered that a cholesterol elevated reading is rarely the cause of an MI (unless it's unbelievably high and/or accompanied by high blood pressure). MIs are usually caused by long-term stress and inflammation in the body, which dumps all sorts of deadly hormones into your system to sludge things up in there. Pain in the jaw can wake you from a sound sleep. Let's be careful and be aware. The more we know the better chance we could survive. A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this mail sends it to 10 people, you can be sure that we'll save at least one life. *Please be a true friend and send this article to all your friends (male & female) who you care about!*

Secrets of the Apple Tree Tavern

    BOOK ALERT for those who love a great story:

            Secrets of the Apple Tree Tavern

                             a novel by

                                       Mary Ellen Gavin

                If you want a book that will keep you up until four in the morning because you can’t put it down, this is it. Mary Ellen Gavin has wound the culture and customs of Irish Americans into one cliffhanger after another.

                How can you not care about Francis Fleming, an adorable, plucky, red haired, child?  When he is rescued by a warm hearted, resourceful, Irish cop who doesn’t mind bending the rules avoid dragging the boy to a draconian orphanage, cheers are in order. And that is only the beginning.

  Next, buckle up for the ride. Frank takes off on his journey to adulthood with the help of Mae, a member of the tribe who takes him under her wing and poses as his aunt. She happens to own the Apple Tree Tavern. It’s New York and the bar is a refuge for one and all as they march through the aftermath of the Great Depression only to plunge into the War to End All Wars.

                There are so many more events to share – but the risk of being a spoiler is too great. Discovery is all.

                Mary Ellen infuses each of her characters with a personality that jumps off the page. There are no cardboard figures on her horizon. She gets up close and personal with each and every one of them. It’s a slice of life with no blinking allowed. If there is a chance there will be bleeding, she lets them bleed.

              Yes! People die in and around the Apple Tree Tavern and it isn’t pretty. It’s life! The good, the bad and the ugly are laid bare. At the same time, there is so much loving and caring involved, the reader isn’t given the opportunity to turn away. When I got to the last page, I still wanted more.

                Gavin took ten years to research and write this volume. We can only hope she is secretly working on a sequel and is close to finished.

Thank you, John Kerry! Saving Afganistan!

For once there is news that isn't depressing and renews faith in our leaders. It was such a relief to read this headline and story from the New York Times:

Afghanistan to Audit Every Vote Cast, Kerry Says

Afghanistan will conduct an audit of the entire eight million votes cast in a runoff vote for the recent presidential election, Secretary of State John Kerry announced on Saturday, a deal he brokered to resolve a tense power struggle between the top two presidential candidates over widespread vote fraud.

The audit will be the largest and most comprehensive possible, Mr. Kerry said at a news conference in Kabul. “Every single ballot that was cast will be audited,” he said. “All eight million of them.” John Kerry -- if anyone can let you know that someone out there cares -- I wish I could thank you personally for your leadership. Had you only won the presidential race here how different this country might be.  Counting the votes is such a sensible solution! Clean, simple, certainly nowhere near as expensive or devastating as a civil war! Anywhere in the world where people can be talked into putting down the guns and being reasonable it is certainly a good thing. Life is so short and so much of what goes on is tragically unnecessary. Good grief! We are all going to die anyway.

Thank God! -- Police carrying anti-opiode drugs to save lives!

The New York Times is featuring a headline article today about more and more police around the country carrying anti-opiode drugs as our populations experience an epidemic of heroin and opiode drug addiction. How many people had to die -- most of them too young to know better -- before we could spring into action?

I do hope this spreads to a world-wide method of dealing with the problem. This is the way the war on drugs needs to be fought. Just arresting people is not enough. More to the point is saving lives.

And for those who have had the misfortune of becoming addicted, sending them to prison may keep them away from drugs -- but it also destroys any real life they may have had. Give them a chance! Give them rehab...maybe even rehab for life. Give them a place to turn when they don't want drugs to ruin their lives but they don't know how else to deal with what their bodies are telling them.

Let's be smart. Let's really care about our children and our children's children. It's a heartbreak that doesn't have to happen if we all pull together.

Summer Tease

     The beginning of summer is a tease. It's too beautiful and too comfortable to even begin to think about what is ahead. The mosquitoes have not yet launched their all-out attacks, nor has the humidity that drenches us in sweat really gotten off the ground. Personally, I cannot help but be seduced by this perfect weather.

     This morning I went outside and actually enjoyed doing yard work. Clipping hedges that are mushrooming with the rains. Pulling weeds that are thriving and don't know they are about to be thrown in the trash.

     As I clipped, I wondered why I hadn't written the books everyone is telling me I should write -- about my stories. So many. Do I want to do that? Do I really want to stand naked in front of strangers -- and, worse, in front of those who know me? In the stories, there is joy and there is pain. I guess that is about par for the course in everyone's life. So many strange twists along the way. Maybe I got more than my share, maybe that's just the way it is.

     Is it fair to tell other people's stories and tuck away my own in a safe place? (Great exhale.) Maybe I'll start. Yeah, I've done that before. Mo' bettuh to paint a picture and let people guess what is inside. A major gallery owner here in Atlanta has just revived his interest in my work. Maybe there's hope? Before I die and everything I've created goes to a garage sale...or the trash heap.

    Ah, yes, thoughts a summer morning can stimulate. I think I'll make myself a cup of tea and then hit the showers...a luxury summer makes us appreciate.

Love in the Afternoon

Looking at our surroundings with different eyes is one of the ways I entertain myself. Through my camera lens, I take a piece of our surroundings and capture it -- capture it and then twist it around with editing tricks.

This one is actually the closeness and companionship of two dogs. However, the comical take on it is to have a lyric that tells an entirely different story. Ironically, terrier eyes seem to be in sync with the singer's tale of woe.

http://animoto.com/play/dS0pIxk9MWALYjRjcICnCg