The alarm awakened me as usual at 4:30 am, and I jumped out of bed, barely clothed, to greet the day. I immediately jumped back under the comforter that had cocooned me for the past eight hours. "Holy crap! It is cold!" I warned my husband. (Not my exact words.)
Christopher Tremont was born to be a department store Santa Claus. From the moment he popped out of the womb, he was different from other children. Christopher was tall and big boned. He had round, rosy apple cheeks and bright, shining eyes.
With Veterans Day on the horizon, let us take a few minutes to think about what it means to give of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally - without consideration of the consequences - so that others can remain safe. Being a veteran means forfeiting your dreams so that someone else can pursue their dreams. Being a veteran means sacrifice and suffering not only during active service but often for a lifetime.
For years, I have blamed my penchant for Yankee Doodles and Devil Dogs on biology. Genetics are responsible for my inability to pass by the tray of brownies which holds center stage at every family gathering without eating two or three before dinner. Even as I avert my face, those moist little fudge-frosted mouthfuls call my name, "Donna. You know you want us. Don't fight the temptation. Give in." My hand shakes as I reach for the platter. Oh, the guilt! I stuff the first one into my mouth and reach for another. Brownies, I have learned, make great appetizers.
For Veterans Day 2009, many newspapers and magazines carried an advertisement by a well-known insurance company. The ad featured a uniformed World War II soldier standing in profile and saluting. Part of the caption read, "Being a veteran has its advantages." To see that ad, you would know that respect was not one of them.
Our world is getting smaller and increasingly dangerous. The ease with which people can travel from destinations far and wide has brought us into up close and personal contact and conflict with ethnic groups who do not agree with our lifestyle. I feel strongly that anyone who does not take responsibility for his or her own safety is a fool.
Standing on the checkout line at the supermarket yesterday, I overheard a conversation between a customer, the cashier and the bagger - all males. The customer was black, the cashier was Hispanic, and the bagger was white. The three men were talking about the increase in crime on city streets and their fear of being attacked by a mugger if they were out after dark. One man used the word “thug.”
Hanging from a specially made stand in our garage is a full-size human skeleton. Made of a life-like material, the skeleton was used as a teaching tool in my husband’s medical office. For years, we have dressed him in various costumes for Halloween and scared many an unacquainted trick or treater knocking on our door.
As most movie buffs know, Deliverance is the story of four Atlanta businessmen who decide to commune with nature by taking a canoe trip into extremely rural northern Georgia. All goes well until treacherous white water rapids drop them into the remote backwoods far from civilization as they know it. Upon meeting the locals, an uncomfortable tingling sends their nervous systems into overdrive. They grow suspicious and wary, quickly recognizing that in a world of predator and prey, they are the prey.
According to an article published in Forbes magazine in February 2011, seven seconds are all that are needed for the human brain to react to thousands of stimuli and make the decision whether a person is friend or foe. In that brief span of time, seven non-verbal signs are calculated, disseminated and digested, leaving an impression that can never be erased.
During day four of the 2020 confirmation hearings for Judge Amy Cony Barrett’s appointment to the Supreme Court, she responded to a question posed by Democratic senators by using the term “sexual preference” when speaking on same sex marriages. Senators Hirono and Booker took her to task for her choice of words even though that expression had been used by millions of people with no hurtful intent.
As a follow up to yesterday’s post titled “To Fear Is Human… and wise,” I would like to offer some advice regarding situational awareness and the need to ignore the “fear” of name calling which has become the go to form of attack by certain people against anyone who does not share their opinions. Some of this editorial will repeat what was written yesterday, but some warnings need to be issued over and over again before people pay attention.
I first wrote the editorial below in 2013. It was published a second time in 2014. In view of the attack on Israel, I decided to publish it again. Why? Because lately I have become disheartened by the realization that human beings have an overabundance of ostrich in our DNA.
The bell has rung announcing the beginning of another school year and while mothers of preteen students were busy filling backpacks with notebooks, pencils, markers and assorted necessities, mothers of college-aged girls were also preparing to pack bags. For parents of young women heading off to institutes of higher education, the sight of suitcases in the hallway can be traumatic.
Every election cycle women have an opportunity to change the world. All it takes is letting our voices be heard, not as parrots for the political machine but as independent thinkers who understand that the best form of government is one that is clearly "... of the people, by the people and for the people..."
Another Thanksgiving would soon be upon them. Another dinner with dysfunctional relatives would once again etch an indelible memory into Christopher’s and Emily’s memories. Having hosted the holiday for 30 years, the couple had laughed and cried their way through similar scenarios decade after decade.
This is a true story about a man named Robert. It is also a story about men named John, Jim, Peter and Frank. It is about women named Mary, Sara, Jane and Martha. This story is about people with every name you can think of and many you cannot. The names do not matter. The details do.
Renting apartments to people you do not know… people who lie on their applications… and everyone does… is an example of repetitive stupidity. I doubt Thomas Palmer was referencing landlords when he wrote, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
Cat Leigh, 30, but looking like a fresh-faced college cheerleader, sat on her living room sofa sifting through a stack of 8x10 glossies. Her long blonde hair hung down around her face like a curtain, hiding the piercing blue eyes that stared hard at the images of death before her. If appearances are deceiving, then Cat was the ultimate chameleon. Dressed in navy blue Capri pants, navy and white stripped short-sleeve cotton sweater and red low-heeled sandals, she appeared ready for a day of boating—not one spent examining corpses and interviewing murder suspects.
The ravages of domestic abuse never fade. Fifty years after my escape from a marriage that nearly took my life, the emotional scars are still visible. Happily remarried, I am good at playing the part of confident woman, contented wife and blessed mother. Most of the time, the act does not take much effort. Trust… and time… have honed my performance skills.
