Once upon a time, I started a little blog. It was a good little blog, and I enjoyed it for many moons. Times change, and the fun was stripped away. So I will retire this blog for a time, though at some point in the future it may resurrect itself.
In the meantime, I'm moving on. I have begun another blog, which I'm very excited about. Those of you who have regularly followed this blog (and who have not rained on my parade), will shortly be receiving the link to my new blog. Watch for it. I am working out the kinks in the new blog now, but hope to have it up and running soon. I'm anticipating the new blog to be much different from the old one -- and I'm very excited to get started!
If you recently found this blog, I invite you to have a look around. There's a lot of good stuff here!
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Psalm of Heroin Addiction
Recently, I was talking to one of my kids about the "Stupid Kids File" I kept when they were growing up. It was a collection of things I had seen while working in law offices where kids had been hurt because of a moment of pure stupidity. It was my hope that by sharing these things with my children, that they would stop and think before they did something stupid that could cause them harm.
I should have saved that file for my grandchildren, but I didn't. I tossed it long ago. However, it seems there isn't a day that goes by that there isn't something in the news that my kids can save for the grandkids.
A couple of weeks ago, I was helping my brother in preparation for a move. He was sorting through some old files and ran across something which he gave to me. He worked in law enforcement for many years. I don't remember whether he told me he was the officer on the scene, or whether it was another officer, but one day a young woman commit suicide. The suicide note contained a poem. He doesn't know whether she wrote the poem herself, or whether someone else wrote it and she just included it in her note.
While these things are not pleasant to read, maybe this will be a good thing for us all to keep in the "Stupid Kid File" to help educate those we love.
_____
PSALM OF HEROIN ADDICTION
King Heroin is my shepherd, I shall always want.
He maketh me to lie down in the gutters.
He leadeth me beside the troubled waters.
He destroyeth my soul.
He leadeth me in the paths of wickedness
For the effort's sake.
Yea, I shall walk through the valley of
Poverty and will fear all evil.
For thou, heroin, art with me.
Thy needle and capsule try to comfort me.
They strippest the table of groceries in
The presence of my family.
Thou robest my head of reason.
My cup of sorrow runneth over.
Surely heroin addiction shall stalk me
All the days of my life.
And I will dwell in the house of the damned forever and ever.
_____
On the back of the card on which this poem was written was the following suicide note.
Truly this is my psalm. I am a young woman, 20 years of age and for the past year and a half I have been wandering down the nightmare alley of the junkies. I wanted to quit taking dope and I tried, but I couldn't. Jail didn't cure me. Nor did hospitalization help me for long. The doctor told my family it would have been better and indeed kinder if the person that first got me hooked on dope to have taken a gun and blown my brains out, and I wish to God she had. My God how I wish to God she had. Now I will finish the job she started.
I should have saved that file for my grandchildren, but I didn't. I tossed it long ago. However, it seems there isn't a day that goes by that there isn't something in the news that my kids can save for the grandkids.
A couple of weeks ago, I was helping my brother in preparation for a move. He was sorting through some old files and ran across something which he gave to me. He worked in law enforcement for many years. I don't remember whether he told me he was the officer on the scene, or whether it was another officer, but one day a young woman commit suicide. The suicide note contained a poem. He doesn't know whether she wrote the poem herself, or whether someone else wrote it and she just included it in her note.
While these things are not pleasant to read, maybe this will be a good thing for us all to keep in the "Stupid Kid File" to help educate those we love.
_____
PSALM OF HEROIN ADDICTION
King Heroin is my shepherd, I shall always want.
He maketh me to lie down in the gutters.
He leadeth me beside the troubled waters.
He destroyeth my soul.
He leadeth me in the paths of wickedness
For the effort's sake.
Yea, I shall walk through the valley of
Poverty and will fear all evil.
For thou, heroin, art with me.
Thy needle and capsule try to comfort me.
They strippest the table of groceries in
The presence of my family.
Thou robest my head of reason.
My cup of sorrow runneth over.
Surely heroin addiction shall stalk me
All the days of my life.
And I will dwell in the house of the damned forever and ever.
_____
On the back of the card on which this poem was written was the following suicide note.
Truly this is my psalm. I am a young woman, 20 years of age and for the past year and a half I have been wandering down the nightmare alley of the junkies. I wanted to quit taking dope and I tried, but I couldn't. Jail didn't cure me. Nor did hospitalization help me for long. The doctor told my family it would have been better and indeed kinder if the person that first got me hooked on dope to have taken a gun and blown my brains out, and I wish to God she had. My God how I wish to God she had. Now I will finish the job she started.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Misunderstood Motives
Someone posted a picture on social media today:
"WARNING: NOVELIST AT WORK. BYSTANDERS MAY BE WRITTEN INTO THE STORY."
A common problem with writers is that everyone around them sees themselves in the writing. It's hard when the most important people in your life misunderstand your motives. I'm not a smart person, but there are lessons that I've learned through hard knocks. The lesson I'm learning on any given day is rumbling around in my head in a jumble of words. I'm a writer, and words are important to writers. Though I spent many years in another career, writing has always been who I am. The lesson of the day doesn't completely formulate until it is on paper (or virtual paper).
Writers write what they know about, what is important to them, what is on their mind, and what is close to their hearts. Yes, I am a writer. That describes me perfectly. I don't write to hurt anyone, to be vindictive, to criticize, or to judge. I try very hard to be objective in my writing, but since I do write from my heart, I do express opinions.
My hope is that those who stop to read what I write will benefit from it. If not, it would be a waste of their time. All of us go through different challenges in our lives, but we all have one thing in common: Life is tough. We all have problems and lessons to learn. As I learn life's lessons and write them down, hopefully, it will help someone else who is working through a similar problem. If people see themselves in my words, I don't think that's a bad thing. We need to open our hearts to each other and learn from one another. I've learned many things from reading what others have written.
I've written things (and made them public) that I don't want people to know about me -- especially those closest to me. There was one blog post in particular that the instant I hit "publish," I thought I was going to throw up. I published it anyway. I did so because I knew that I could not possibly be the only person who felt the way I was feeling, and that maybe others might quickly learn from my post what had taken me years of beating my head against a wall to learn for myself. Isn't that what life is all about? Helping each other along the way? I've also had a couple of articles published that made me extremely vulnerable, and sadly my words have already been twisted and used to hurt me.
In my writing, I try to look outside my own little problems and my own little world at who else may benefit from what's kicking around in my head. To my readers I would say that if you see yourself in something I write, please don't take it personally. Please understand that what you see that describes you and your situation or life circumstance, may also describe many other people and their situations and life circumstances -- including me. Please look outside of your own little world at who may benefit from reading my thoughts. If my writing upsets you, simply don't read it.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Study in Human Nature
I don't know why this continues to surprise me, because I've seen it so many times before, but I'm always shocked when it happens.
This afternoon a four-year-old boy had a seizure which put him into cardiac arrest. As the helicopter was in flight to take the child to the hospital, his heart sick mother turned to Google+ on social media and asked for prayers. She told people that didn't believe in a higher power to please just scroll on down. She is not of my faith, but I know that God answers ALL prayers. As a mother, I felt her pain. I instantly bowed my head and said a prayer for this child, his mother, and all those who loved them.
On completion of my prayer, I scrolled through the comments. In just an hour from her original post, there were 283 comments, 200 people had +1 (or liked) the post, and 67 people had forwarded the post for their followers to read and pray. As I write this post, people are continuing to comment and pray. Prayers came from many faiths--Christian and Muslim. Some who don't believe in a higher power, left kind thoughts for a speedy recovery.
The reason for my shock: There were several comments left for this grieving mother expressing the sentiment that instead of praying to some imaginary man in the sky, she should be hoping the doctors had learned their skills appropriately. I am shocked at the heartlessness of those comments--especially since this mother had specifically asked that those who were not believers just scroll past. Those on social media who insist on kicking a man who is down are just cruel people. There is a time and a place for religious debate. This was not the time, nor the place. This was a grieving mother in a plea for support. The longer I live in "civilization," the more I wonder how "civilized" we really are becoming. All I can do is note the numbers of people who left kind messages and hope that by the end of the day, those messages far outweigh the unkind words.
This afternoon a four-year-old boy had a seizure which put him into cardiac arrest. As the helicopter was in flight to take the child to the hospital, his heart sick mother turned to Google+ on social media and asked for prayers. She told people that didn't believe in a higher power to please just scroll on down. She is not of my faith, but I know that God answers ALL prayers. As a mother, I felt her pain. I instantly bowed my head and said a prayer for this child, his mother, and all those who loved them.
On completion of my prayer, I scrolled through the comments. In just an hour from her original post, there were 283 comments, 200 people had +1 (or liked) the post, and 67 people had forwarded the post for their followers to read and pray. As I write this post, people are continuing to comment and pray. Prayers came from many faiths--Christian and Muslim. Some who don't believe in a higher power, left kind thoughts for a speedy recovery.
The reason for my shock: There were several comments left for this grieving mother expressing the sentiment that instead of praying to some imaginary man in the sky, she should be hoping the doctors had learned their skills appropriately. I am shocked at the heartlessness of those comments--especially since this mother had specifically asked that those who were not believers just scroll past. Those on social media who insist on kicking a man who is down are just cruel people. There is a time and a place for religious debate. This was not the time, nor the place. This was a grieving mother in a plea for support. The longer I live in "civilization," the more I wonder how "civilized" we really are becoming. All I can do is note the numbers of people who left kind messages and hope that by the end of the day, those messages far outweigh the unkind words.
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