Thinking About

From Welfare Kid to World Traveler - That's Me.....

2016-04-06T12:20:00.000-05:00

Ice fishing in Alaska

How fortunate I have been.

Sometimes I am amazed at the wonderful life I've lived. Starting life in rather poor circumstances, a welfare kid until I was 9, I've been privileged to travel the globe.

From the Bering Sea in Alaska to the Fjords of Norway, I've traveled FREE.

I have cruised to most of the Caribbean Islands, as well as the Greek Isles. I spent a week in Aruba, enjoying all of its delights, and I drank a secret potion prepared by a tour guide in Fiji. The trips were all FREE.

I marveled at the majesty of the peak of Mt. McKinley in Denali Park, Alaska and warbled the blues in New Orleans.

I strolled through Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen, gazed transfixed at the ruins of Pompeii, and was enthralled by the art in the Sistine Chapel in Rome.

I have been awed by the beauty and acoustics in The Opera House in Sydney, Australia and I will never forget the view from the Eiffel Tower in Gay Paree!

For years, I was a group cruise and tour travel director. I've made free cruises and tours available to countless travelers who have sailed the Caribbean and the Hawaiian Islands, FREE!

I've made it possible for other cruise and tour dreamers to take FREE trips to Switzerland, Scandinavia, Italy, Alaska, and the Far East.

How did I help others go on FREE cruises and tours?

I showed them how to be a group tour organizer, in six easy steps, and they traveled FREE.

Betty Hutchinson was one of my most traveled group organizer. She was 75 when I first met her, and 92 when we went on our last group tour together.

How did she do it? She let her friends and neighbors know she was going on a tour or cruise. Her excitement and enthusiasm about the trip garnered their interest and before she knew it, she had the right number of people going to get her free trip.

Oh, she didn't know all the people going because her friends invited their friends, who let their families know about the tour and Betty went to many of the same places I did and like me, she went FREE.

I wrote an eBook about it, with 6 step by step details.

If You Write it, It Will Sell. Yes It Will.

2013-07-27T11:01:00.002-05:00

I did not choose to write. My personality is such that I thrive when I am around people not holed up alone in a room banging out words on a computer. I write because I have to. Characters bombard me with their need to be heard. A story line falls into place like a missile centering on its target. Articles, novels, stories, poems and plays rest in file drawers. Most often they remain untouched, rarely read or sent for publication. They are never rewritten because once the writing is over, the urge is satisfied, I am at peace, and the nagging little inner voice is stilled.

There was one exception when the voice couldn't be stilled. It bugged me about -- Annon's Secret Something Within a novel I had written several years before. Now and then passages from it would streak into my consciousness, like a fighter jet zooming into the air from the runway of a destroyer. Whenever I placed something into my writing drawer, pages of the file stood out like a flag unfurled on a balmy day.

I had to admit it was a good story, and it could probably be shaped into a fine novel, capable of being published and well read. It might even be a best seller if it had the right author rework it. As a first draft, it lacked that certain quality that keeps a writer from the ranks of an author.

I have never had overriding desires to be published. As a writer, I lack the discipline to rewrite. Do I lack discipline or courage? Am I afraid someone will tell me I am really not a writer? Whatever the reason might be, Annon and those who came to his impressive mansion to learn the secret, remained in the file drawer.

One afternoon, as I slipped a handwritten poem into the drawer. I sensed a voice inside my head saying, if you write it, it will sell. I slammed the drawer shut. I had seen the movie,- - - Field of Dreams - - -and knew that's where the words came from, only instead of - - - if you build it, they will come,- - - I heard,- - - if you write it, it will sell.- -

No thank you, I decided, walking away from the file cabinet. I had no desire to rewrite chapter after chapter to make it a viable piece of work. Rewriting was a mini war for me, one skirmish after another. Besides the work of rewriting, there is the battle for publication. Finding an agent or getting to the right editor. Then after acceptance, selling the book. It could be a long weary battle and I didn't feel I wanted to become involved.

- - -If you write it, it will sell! - - - I heard the words over and over. Ignoring them, I wrote a play, placed it in the file drawer next to the historical romance, which was behind the philosophical essay, that had been tucked between a travel article and a health and nutrition feature.

Annon's Secret Something Within was pushed further and further back into the drawer. I thought of it often but managed to ignore it for two years, until a rainy Saturday afternoon. I was moving my office into another room. As I carried a huge stack of files, some slipped out of my hands. I was picking them up, but one file kept falling and finally spilled its contents. Of course, it was Annon. Fuming with annoyance, I carried the files into the other room and returned to pick up the pages - -If you write it, it will sell,- - - the words echoed in my mind.

"Go away", I muttered, shoving the pages into the manila file.

"All you need is a battle plan," the voice continued, "survey your situation, prepare your strategy, line up the troops, and victory is yours."

I was losing it. Thoughts like that attacking my mind were beginning to scare me.

Sitting on the floor, I pulled a few pages from the folder and began to read. They really were not too bad. Since I had let so much time pass, I could read it with a fresh slant. The writing was not good, but the story was very good. I had forgotten about the characters. I began to see their faces in my minds eye, just as I had envisioned when I had created them. By God, I would give it a shot and try rewriting it. Maybe then the voice would leave me alone.

How foolish that thought was. I had constant advice from my unseen nemesis Muse, whom I call 'Damon", as I worked on rewriting.

"Give Anon a more surrealistic appearance." the voice ordered.
"No, Peter would not wear anything but perfectly tailored clothes."
"Why don't you make Marcy have something to hide other than her weight?"
"You are not capturing Alice's heartache."

My mind began the battle with the unseen force. Leave me alone. Let me write this thing myself.

"Okay, but you are not describing Tony as he really is. He needs to be more sarcastic and sullen." Go away! Leave me alone!

"Are you sure you want Anon to feel that way?"

Leave me alone! I shouted to the empty room. Breathing deeply, I became calmer and read the words on the monitor screen.

"I do not like to bother you, but that sentence does not read very clearly."

Leave me alone, or I swear I will never write another word, my mind screamed.

Silence prevailed. I re-read the sentence. It was not clear. I reworked it. Still not clear. What was I trying to have the character imply? Why were his words out of sync with his usual forceful manner? There is no way he could become a wimp in just a few lines.

What is happening? I questioned the inner voice.

Silence.

Should Alan and Tony have their battle so early in the story?

Silence.

Why is Peter getting involved, and Anon certainly should be more forceful, after all, it is his Gathering? I threw out the questions as I surveyed the manuscript.

The questions received no reply. The voice was stilled. Good. I could get on with the story. It didn't happen. I reworked several lines and passages, but the words did not convey the true attitudes of the characters. The scenes seemed flat and without life. To hell with it, I told myself. I do not need this aggravation in my life.

I shut down the computer, turned off the monitor, and stashed the old manuscript into the file drawer. I had enough. It was time to get back into the world. For weeks, I did not write anything. I did not even read. I wanted nothing to do with words. Friends stopped by and I went out. Life became fun again, with no nagging little voice butting in.

One night, I was watching an old war movie on TV. It was late, and I was half-asleep when the faces of the actors became the characters in battle.

Annon was the Major leading the Company. The young soldiers were Peter, Tony, Alan, James and Mark. I sleepily watched as they fought their way across the battlefield. When Tony was hit by a sniper bullet, Alan lifted him onto his thin shoulders. Peter helped them both get to a quiet spot. Annon checked them, then hurriedly moved on with the other troops.

What was going to happen to them, I wondered?

I got up, turned on the PC, and started from the beginning, without looking at the old manuscript, or pulling up the saved pages on the computer.

Daily I encountered the vast terrain of dubious metaphors, time-worn cliches obscure points of view, and lifeless dialogue. I faltered over a trite phrase and retreated from an agonizing plot device.

Peter lost his enthusiasm; Mark tried to prove Anon was a fraud; Alan brought friction to the entire group.

Stymied, I took long walks, sipped wine and called old friends. My shoulders ached and my mind begged for peace. I found that I could not, not write. I was hooked. Daily I visualized their faces and heard their voices when I was preparing a meal or running an errand. They bombarded my sleep, and bits of their dialogue played in my ear like CD player set for continuous play.

Annon's concern that he would die before a successor could be found urged me on each day. Marcy's hope for a better life and Alice's tears fueled my passion.

As I worked, I became less critical, and the voice did not tell me where structure was wrong or scenes inept. The words were encouraging. "Keep going, you are doing fine."

I began to have confidence. Daily I labored over each scene until at long last I wrote, 'The End'.

Closing my eyes, I visualized a new scene. The flag has been waved, the battles won. Annon's Secret Something Within is complete, out there for all the world to see.

Annon's Secret Something Within

Available as an immediate download!

The Identity Songs of My Life

2012-03-10T19:27:00.000-06:00

Thinking about a song that would most reflect my life, I thought about, 'The Happy Wanderer', since I moved and traveled so much and it was one of my favorite songs with my kids.

Next one to come to mind is, 'My Way', I guess now that I'm almost 80 I'm thinking about Sinatra's words, "And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain" but I realize I didn't always do it my way and hopefully the final curtain is still many years off.

Another that came to mind, "Fly Me to the Moon', so many times I wanted to get away, even if just for a day.

One that I sang often over the years was, "The Glory of Love." I remember on my honeymoon in a cocktail lounge, the piano player asked my favorite song and I told him, 'The Glory of Love'. He didn't know it, I sang a few bars and he had me come up to sing in front of the lounge crowd. In case, you don't know it,

You got to give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little, that's the story of, that's the glory of love.
You got to laugh a little, cry a little and let those clouds go by a little, that's the story of, that's the glory of love, etc.

Give a little, take a little, that's really a story of life. Sometimes it's hard to let those clouds roll by.

So many songs come to mind as I go back in time. But which one defines me?

"You are my Sunshine". I was four years old, standing on a balcony of our apartment, belting it out. In the garden next door, three people were looking up and clapping. I knew I loved singing, not necessarily loved music, just loved singing.

I've been singing songs all my life. Sometimes to the point of driving others to want to get away. I don't just sing in the shower, I sing in the kitchen, I sing in the car. One day I caught myself singing in the grocery store. I sing when I'm happy and oh how many times have I sung when I'm sad!

I don't like to think of myself as ever being sad. I'm Pollyanna, or as my children's father used to say, 'the girl in the rose-colored glasses'. But was I, am I?

Do I sing so I don't cry?
Do I sing to put me in a happier place?
Is the song that most identifies me
'The Great Pretender'?

Oh-oh yes, I'm the great pretender,
Pretending that I'm doing well,
My need is such I pretend too much,
I'm lonely but no one can tell.

I think my identity song is
That's All I Want from You but I'd change it to All I Want From Life.

That's All I Want From You

Discovery Launch- May 1999 Cape Canaveral

2011-07-19T08:06:00.002-05:00

A Lifetime Thrill

There are no adequate words to describe the thrill and excitement of being right up front at the Discovery launch last week. We arrived at Kennedy Space Center Wed. afternoon and checked in to get our information packets and bus passes. We were just in time for a special NASA Guest tour.

I have toured Kennedy before, but this was for the launch. We were taken out to a pad next to Discovery. This time it was an up close and a very awesome sight.

Early Thurs we headed back to Kennedy, boarded the bus to go out to the viewing stands, and prepare for the countdown. Watching the activities around us was fun. We were in prime seats, siting amid NASA employees, 3.2 miles from Discovery. The huge countdown clock informed us of the minutes before blast off. It went into a normal hold pattern at 20 minutes, then again at 9.

The stands were filled to overflowing as the eastern horizon began its slow dawn awakening. Slits of morning light embraced the launch pad, as the sun inched its way above the earth. Rising adjacent to Discovery, its slashing rays of orange lit up the sky, heralding a new dawn and a new space adventure.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please stand for the National Anthem,” a voice announced over the speakers. I felt the rising anticipation surging around me. Voices became subdued and then hushed as the countdown approached 10.

Silence permeated the air at 9, 8 then in unison the crowd gazed at Discovery, at first mouthing the numbers, then joining in the countdown. 7--our eyes are focused on Discovery, 6--our bodies tense, 5--we are in awe, 4--we call out, 3--the roar drowns out our voices.

The countdown is over, the shuttle lifts off, and it is now that I cannot find words to describe the sense of awe, of pride, of amazement, of pure wonder and emotion that I experienced. It was truly beyond description.

Written, June 1, 1999 - Treasure Island, FL

A Christian Learns about Hanukkah

2010-12-01T11:55:00.001-06:00

I was raised in the Christian tradition and pretty well know the tenets of that faith. Now, I have two sons in law who are of the Jewish faith and four grandchildren who are of that heritage. Two by faith and religious practice and two by heritage and religious tradition. I have come to know a little bit about Judaism, but not as much as I would like to know.

I'm told it all started in a Temple in Jerusalem over 2,000 years ago. The Temple held the holy book, the Torah, which contained some writings of Moses, as well as Hebrew laws and traditions. From what I've been told, there were many rulers who took over the Temple over the years and they pretty much desecrated it by putting in statues of their pagan gods. In time, the Jews were able to take back their Temple, after many battles, and it was not in good condition. They began to rebuild it, and to honor the Torah that was kept there, they wanted to keep a flame burning. The problem was, they only had enough oil for two days but they were blessed .and the oil lasted for eight days and nights. Because of this, Hanukkah is also known as The Festival of Lights.

In honor of the event, a celebration is commenced each evening at sundown when a family member lights one of the candles on a Menorah, which is a nine candle holder. Eight of the candles are for the eight days the oil lasted, and the ninth is what they call a Shammes, or helping candle. That's the first one to be lighted and then used to light the other candles.

"Typically three blessings (Brachot singular Brachah) are recited during this eight-day festival. On the first night of Hanukkah, Jews recite all three blessings; on all subsequent nights, they recite only the first two.[The blessings are said before or after the candles are lit depending on tradition. On the first night of Hanukkah one light (candle, lamp, or electric) is lit on the right side of the Menorah, on the following night a second light is placed to the left of the first candle and so on, proceeding from right to left over the eight nights. On each night, the leftmost candle is lit first, and lighting proceeds from left to right."

Being able to relate to my grandchildren who are of the Jewish faith is an honor. I hope to learn some of the prayers in Hebrew.

Why I Believe in Life After Death

2010-06-10T07:14:00.000-05:00

Many of you know about Blue Jays the morning of my son's funeral 4 years ago. Here's a catch up for those of you who don't know.

When my son died in a car accident coming home from his daughter's soccer game, I was en route home from FL to TN. I got the information along the side of the road outside of Atlanta, where I was planning to spend the night with a friend. My first reaction was to scream, pound the steering wheel and cry. I forced myself to be calm, got to my friend's house and there I fell apart and gave into my grief.

My friend had to leave for a short, short while and I assured her I was okay to be alone. As I sat wondering why, crying and feeling overcome with sadness, I felt an overwhelming presence. I suddenly knew my son was okay, somewhere, and I felt a calmness completely, almost a serenity.

Of course, I still cried but it was for my loss and my family's and his family, a wife and three daughters.

His daughter who had been in the car with him was in the hospital with a broken ankle and ripped pancreas otherwise alright. My daughter in law asked me if I would stay with her overnight. My oldest daughter and I did. I told Shaye about the sense of peace I felt and that I felt her dad's presence. She smiled a bright smile and thanked me for telling her. She said that during the night she felt someone holding her hand, no one was there, she knew it was her dad.

One of the things I loved about being at Steve's house was watching the blue jays at the bird feeder. I had mentioned it to him and he said they could be really mean birds.

During the days prior to his funeral, I sent mental messages to him asking him to send my a bluebird, in my mind it was a blue jay.

The morning of his funeral, I looked out the window of my bedroom and two blue jays flew into the tree, lighted briefly because the branches of the tree aren't very strong--they flew away--but they were there. They were definitely there.

This all occurred late May and early June.

My granddaughter, after hearing me tell about the blue jays said, "I'm going to ask Uncle Steve to send me some too." She was 9 at the time.

In the fall, she called me from Gainesville where she and her mom, one of my daughters, had been to a Gator game. Steve had gone to the U of FL and had been a loyal Gator fan.

"Guess what Grandma!" Her voice was excited. Uncle Steve had two blue jays fly in front of us at half-time."

I know, I'm probably going out on a limb, no pun intended, on this but how often do blue jays fly down in front of the crowd, during half-time??

The next incident happened to one of my other daughters, I have 4, one who is a major skeptic.

It was close to a year after Steve's death--the family was together for the 1st Annual Steve McCauley Memorial Golf Tournament to raise money for students in need at the local high school.

My daughter was sitting in his office putting together a CD to play at the 'tee--off' cocktail party the night before the tournament.

I get another phone call. "Mom, you aren't going to believe this. Oh wait a minute, I'm talking to you. You will believe it."

"Believe what I asked?"

"I'm sitting in Steve's office, trying to decide which songs I want to put on the CD when I looked out the window. Guess what was sitting on the mailbox!

I didn't have to guess. I knew.

"Mom!"--She was nearly shouting--"it was a bluebird". A bluebird," she repeated.

It's now four years later and I still send little messages to Steve. It eases the loss for me to think he hears me.

This morning I was waiting to pick up his wife at the car dealer service center. I was parked under an overhang by the showroom. A Blue Jay fluttered in front of my car, perched on one of those round, put out your cigarette things, twirled around a little bit, then facing me, he flapped his wings and flew directly over my car.

And my friends, you can call me sentimental, or a reaching for straws, want to believe, over the hill mom and grandma, but I know those birds flying by us were no coincidence. And that's why I believe in life after death.

I know, Steve is there, somewhere.

Me in TN-a Sgt In Iraq-a wife in KY-and the Law of Attraction

2009-07-18T09:53:00.004-05:00

It's all about me in TN, a Sgt in Iraq, a woman in KY, a washer and dryer, an electric wheelchair and the best friend anyone could ever hope for.

I must add the Law of Attraction, positive affirmations, writing your wants and believing you will get them.

It's how I've gotten other things, like a couple years ago when I cut out a picture of a red sofa that I admired, pasted it over my desk and just let the picture hang there. A few months later I had an almost identical red sofa in my living room, the only difference from the picture is that mine had a red slipcover--the exact same red as the sofa in the picture. My son and daughter in law had bought a new one and gave me their red one.

Another time I wrote on a piece of paper that I wanted, actually needed, a car in good condition, white, affordable, in parenthesis 'free if possible', I told you I'm a believer, and about six months later I had a white Ford Probe, my brother gave to me in more than excellent condition.

These are only two of many, many law of attraction actions in my life, but you are here to read about the Sgt. in Iraq, the gal in KY, me in TN, and a good friend.

I put a post-it note on my PC, it was a positive affirmation. "I have an excellent washer and dryer that I enjoy using in my apartment. It is good."

As I write this, a washer and dryer are about to be delivered, FREE!

Here's where the good friend comes in. My dear friend Marilyn knew I wanted a washer and dryer. She is very familiar with Craig's list and she posted the following on the local list.

"Want to barter a power electric wheelchair for washer and dryer in good condition. Must be willing to deliver and set up".

The main response came from a Sgt. in Iraq. His wife in KY had recently bought a new washer and dryer, she needed one larger than what they had and their older set was in excellent condition. Her father needed a wheelchair. He is handicapped by emphysema and can't walk as far as the mailbox. That's how God/the Universe/Higher Power/Creator does things. It's called the Law of Attraction.

So here I am in TN, the Sgt's wife is on her way here from KY, and my dear, dear friend Marilyn has just met them on the way and is bringing them to my apartment.

I am thankful!

I wrote the above while waiting for them to arrive and they are absolutely beautiful. They look brand new, not a scratch on them, and Christie, that's the Sgt's wife, said they are just three years old.

She is very excited to give her father Marilyn's power chair, she believes it will completely change his life.

Marilyn had gotten the chair for her mother who doesn't use it and so Marilyn decided to make good use of it--she helped me and the Sgt.'s father in law. It is good.

And that's the way it is. What is that phrase in the Bible, "ask and you shall receive". I need to add just one thing--you got to believe.

Today's Thoughts

2009-03-01T08:57:00.000-06:00

The birds were tweeting when I woke up this morning. I listened and thought, 'Spring'. I literally jumped, well maybe not literally, out of bed to see the glorious spring morning, and there before my eyes was-- SNOW on the ground and covering my car.

So today I'm 'thinking about' snow and how I want it to go.
I'm thinking 'spring', and what it can bring.
I'm thinking of sunshine, daffodils, and tulips
But I'm seeing snow and ice, and -- I don't want to think about it.

Instead, I will invite you to come to my 'thinking about' blog, be a part of my life, comment if you feel like it, or send me an email, whatever way you like to communicate, but most of all, please let me know you'd like to subscribe to this periodic blog. That you would like to read what I'm thinking about. I can tell you, it may ramble, it may be about aging, or grandkids, or food, or perhaps my social life, such as it is.

I might talk about how I lost 14lbs, but seem to be sneaking it back on. Maybe I'll tell you how I'm trying to decide if I want to color my gray, or what I think of our economy, the latest fashions, a new makeup I'm trying.

Whatever happens to pop into my 'thinking' machine, and all who know me, know it can be way out there sometimes or right on track.

That's it for today, hope you'll sign up and become a 'follower', I'd really like to stay in touch.