Summer Memories

The sound of a distant train bellowing it’s horn as it comes near a crossing. Once, then twice. The sound of cicadas busily making their calls. The hot days of summer. Precious.

The Land That I Love

The 4th of July went deep with me when I was a child. I felt the ingrained sense of “The land that I love.” I experienced a vast sense of honor, and a desire to stand “Stand beside her and guide her. Thru the night with a light from above.” When our family enjoyed the holiday…

A Military Brat, My Adventure

Where this thought came from, I don’t know. A few nights ago I remembered a childhood friend and it dawned on me that I never got to see her grow up. I lost track of her. This is one view of growing up as a child of a father who was enlisted in the US…

The Good and the Bad of Constant Connections

Sometimes I wonder where we crossed the constant connection line. I remember when my mother had a tan-colored phone that hung on the kitchen wall. It was a rotary dial. There was no answering machine. If people called while you were out, nobody got mad, and nobody got worried. The caller attempted to call at…

Living a Mindful Life

Diesel and I were secured in the dog park when I heard a little voice squeal with delight, “Look mom, a jumbo puppy!” He did not see a chunky wrinkle-faced bulldog, he saw a jumbo puppy! The tiny boy clung to the chain link fence with intent, with nothing short of delight in his eyes….

Change in the Pockets, A Smile on the Face

It was a breezy summer afternoon. The oak tree branches resembled huge fronds, lifting, swaying and fanning the air below. I watched a father make a wooden swing. He smoothed and sanded the rough edges, and painted the swing soft white. He pulled the knotted yellow rope through the holes that he drilled out and…

We are different, don’t you see?

When I was a child we often lived on U.S. Army bases, or in some type of family housing. Populate a neighborhood or a single building with people from differing states, or with those that were born in other nations, and you get the picture of the communities that I grew up in. Despite our…

Stained Glass Memories

I slowly inched up the steps in an effort to not give myself away, yet the boards under my feet creaked and moaned. I stopped and pressed my nose to the panes. My young head didn’t know of such things…yet, what I saw was close to divine beauty in my heart. As I slowly shifted…

Bundles of Love

She said she was sorry.  I found myself confused. Obviously, my memories where on a different plain than hers. “Mother, I think I missed something. Why are you apologizing?” “We never had money, you never had much for Christmas.” I never had much, except for memories of love, joy and warmth. I never had much,…

Ingrandes Depot France 1963-1964

My father was in the U.S. Army for many years, he retired as a Master Sargeant, the highest ranking he could obtain without going back to school. Through the years my father was assigned to many different positions (mainly finance, accounting, and instructing), and he was stationed in many distant locations.  I worried myself crazy…

Pig Pen Memories

When I was a child I did not understand the female adult comments directed towards me, “Why don’t you fix that hair?” The day my grandmother and mother took charge of my hair was totally devastating to me.  Could I ever step back outside? My care-free, non-attention getting hair, went from shiny and straight, to…