I have been writing (primarily poetry) since the age of 8 years old. I began seeing publication in various little literary magazines and chapbooks beginning at the age of 12. However, I did not actively begin to seek publication until I was 42; after my late husband made me promise I would do so.
Currently, I have 8 full volumes of poetry published:
Survive the Shadow Stalker; A Poetic Journey Through Abuse (2002 1st edition and 2017 2nd release)
Shadows of Love (2011)
Dancing with the Spirits of Shadowplay (2012)
Dreams are Lie’s Illusions (2017)
The Desert’s Mark (2018)
The Magic of the Superstitions (2018)
Kaleidoscope Memories (2019)
Objects in the Rear-view Mirror (2019)
The Cancer Zone (2021)
I have two books of erotic short stories and poetry and one pending:
Fountains of Fire (short stories and erotic poetry) 2010
Fountains of Hunger (erotic stories and some poetry 2017
Fountains of Sorrow (erotic stories and some poetry – release pending
I currently have two Novels:
A Dog Named No (released in 2017)
The Veil is Lifted (a sequel to A Dog Named No) (released in 2021).
All of my works can be found on line on Amazon, but almost all of the books can also be ordered through any major book store. Should you purchase one of my hard copies and would like a signed bookplate, please fill out your information on my contact page (below) and I will be happy to mail one to you.
Should you purchase an e book version (which I am phasing out) and would like either a signed postcard or a bookmark, please let me know via the contact form as well.
Five years ago today, this book was released. Those who attended our wedding on Dec 1 of 2018 were able to take a copy of it home if they so desired.
“Four years ago, after longing to live out by the Superstitions, she moved out very close to it – having this silly but faith-filled idea that it would somehow perform a feat of magic and heal not only a cancer ridden body, but a lonely broken heart. This year, 2018, the mountain truly blessed her with all of its Magic — and love found its healing way into her life… The Poems within this book will bring faith, hope, and love and help everyone to feel the power and magic of the Superstition Mountains.”
January 9, 2018, that is when he came into my life – “the man I didn’t want”. My heart had been frozen in time, hardened like the desert sand that seemed to cover everything around me. If I am being honest, I wasn’t alive then; I didn’t want, nor did I appreciate being alive at that time and cancer added to the factor. Looking back is hard, but it is also what saved me from me. My world felt much like what you would expect of being stuck in purgatory, or was I the one that had died, and this was my own hell? Well, in truth, it was a hell of my own making and Dante would have been proud.
This man was suddenly standing before me and I, with my widow’s heart said, “I am not looking for anything, I don’t want anything.” I had nothing to give but maybe a nice evening or two. I was very clearly saying my truth right away to this man, and yet he still spoke these words, “I want something, I want a girlfriend, “. Me?? How could he know so quickly?
A chance encounter with a man I barely knew, just having met via Match.com. I no longer believed in fate, but I couldn’t cheat my own mind which was thinking – this is interesting. He brought a bouquet of roses and we chatted for over two hours while eating lunch at Los Gringos Locos; then it was time to part. His lips on my lips and then I walked away. If I continued to walk away, no one could hurt me – ever again…
September 1998. My first husband left in September. How could he have left me here like that? Although we had been told it was inevitable I was still so unprepared. I must have looked so vacant, frail stepping into the Mortuary office to make arrangements for Doug’s cremation and then having to obtain the death certificate. Somehow holding that paper outraged me. Why did I need this stupid piece of paper to certify that my husband was dead. Hell the Doctors and the VA all knew he was going to die and they knew of his addiction and alcoholism. They did NOTHING to help me stop it. Yes, you bet I was angry.
I had done everything the way I was supposed to. Small town western New York girl meets local boy, they become childhood sweethearts, she saves herself for this man, waited for the one, while he joined the Navy and she finished high school. They marry, start building a life, making plans, have three children (lose 7 to miscarriage) and survive untold heartaches together. But addiction, depression, and a bad heart won over love and I was left behind once again, by a man in my life that I loved.
On that day I swore that trusting my heart to another man was never going to happen again! I can’t believe people would actually say to me, “you are young, you will likely marry again” when the ashes had not even been scattered and my mind wouldn’t give me rest. The nights now closed in on me; sleep, well, thankfully I have never required much because now I had even less. I never knew you could live with so little sleep.
That night on January 9, 2018, the man I didn’t want called. I jokingly said “you waited long enough”. He said, “you told me I couldn’t call you right away – want to go out tomorrow night”? I couldn’t. I had created several online dating profiles and I had a date already scheduled. I hated this whole dating scene but for some reason profiling others seemed to pass the time – I had only decided to start dating after 20 years of widowhood because I had also decided to stop fighting the cancer, have a little fun, and just let nature take its course. God does keep making plans for us though doesn’t he?.
We talked for over two hours (totally unheard of for me as I don’t like the telephone), then wished each other goodnight. We hung up after saying we would meet that following Thursday. I fell asleep smiling. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t seem to get this man off my mind. I kept pushing him aside. There was something intriguing there. I hadn’t felt like this, I kept pushing him aside. I went on my scheduled date with “O”, that I was trying to be polite by not canceling, and I just couldn’t connect. He was so nice, and attentive and definitely interesting but, I kept thinking about the man I didn’t want. Something came over me, maybe it was the knowing of how precious a minute was, the thought of wasting it on something that wasn’t right.
So, I ended the night early with my date and went home to my three shepherds and worked on my next book of poetry. That night, Dick called, and we chatted for another hour making plans, once again to meet. This time, it was to a Don McClean concert… (I later learned that he was NOT one of Dick’s favorites, but he went out and bought fantastic tickets with almost front row seats because he knew I did (and I did not know at that time how financially strapped it left him.) We had photos taken that night… and when I looked back on them before going to sleep – I saw a light in my eyes I had not seen in decades. I still have those tickets.
Coming home from the concert that night, I found myself asking him if he wanted to spend the night. I added that I had a spare bedroom and would love having him stay over but was not ready for “sleeping together”. Never having had been forward like that in my life, this took me back to the time I had actually ran up to my first husbands truck window when he was leaving a party and said, “So, when are we going to go out”? The man I didn’t want, said how about another time and I think, rationally, that was reasonable. Though there was nothing rationale in my life those days.
Two days later, he messaged me, he was on his way (dinner every night during the week was now the norm and my going to Church services with him every Sunday was too). Some type of thrilling feeling came over me that night, what the heck was this? As he walked in the front door my heart just did something I had not felt in over 20 years. I felt the nervous, excitement, butterflies in the stomach feeling. So handsome, kind, funny and he had some edge. I cooked us dinner and he kept me company while I washed dishes; then we retired to the couch and a night of television. We talked all night and kissed and held one another. He made me laugh and this man “I didn’t want” started to become a man I knew I needed.
By March of 2018, we were engaged and working towards our wedding day of Dec.1. Then, in September of that year, Dick had taken a month that was always so hard for me, and made it into a new beginning.
I became his wife on beautiful a sunny day. I walked down the aisle toward my future husband to Randy singing “God Bless the Broken Road”, taking with me my first husband, clinging to the flowers that I held just below my heart. I was being married to this man by our wonderful pastor, Jeff Shrank, and being given away by my “adopted” son “Rabbit”, who is a constant reminder of how good men can show up and stay in your life. Dick’s son Brendon was his best man (sadly it was the last time Brendon would speak to his father – sad commentary on today’s children) . Our great granddaughter Elayna was our flower girl. My beautiful granddaughter Jessy was my maid of honor. Our attendents were good friends of mine – closer than family: Maggie, my matron of honor, Marcy, my bridesmaid, Zane, our head usher, and Matthew Godbold, the escort and father for our infant flower girl and my forever grandson. My “videographer” and good right arm was my Texas Daughter – Angela who had flown in from Texas two nights before the wedding.
We had an amazing reception under the shadow of my beloved Superstition Mountain. Old and new friends, some traveling all of the way down from New York and one from England came to wish us well. How blessed we both felt.
I can still hardly believe this man I didn’t want broke down walls in my heart I never knew would be opened; he holds me up when I feel broken again, he forgives me for my crazy antics and he loves me through all of the ups and downs of our life.. He reminds me that not everything in life is perfect but being together and appreciating the times we share and the life we are living and figuring out, means everything.
Marriage is never easy, but then marrying a widow, in my opinion, is a whole new level of navigation. My once soft and penetrable heart had hardened and a defense and coping mechanism was put in its place. A new level of awareness of just how short life is brought up two defenses:
I know how short life is, so I am going to live it, show it, and not hold back.
2. I know how short life is, so I don’t want to hurt again, lose again, fear for what I now know to be so true and so I am going to keep a close hold of my heart so that that type of hurt will never find me. (SO unfair to myself and others)
This man kept showing me he was up for the challenge and we took on this new life together. I had to meet him where he was meeting me. I couldn’t cheat myself anymore. We were put on this earth to love, to cherish and to forgive and forgive ourselves and allow love to come in. Hurts of this life will come, but it’s on us to see that we deserve grace, joy, happiness. We get to make mistakes, but instead of holding on to failures we get to release them as part of the journey of finding ourselves through and amidst chaos. God definitely blessed the broken road that led us to one another…
Nothing in this life is perfect. Standing in our kitchen just last night, I felt his strong arms circle my waist as he gently kissed my cheek. I turned around and said, I Love you” He said “I love you more”. Appreciating this moment and the sweetness and honesty of it, makes me smile. Due to the love of this man, I have learned that no matter what happens in this life you can go through very treacherous seasons, but if you decide to open your awareness, your heart and you unravel the pieces that you try so hard to keep together – that unraveling reveals true beauty that is just waiting to come out.
IN just a few short days, we will have been married five years and it really blows my mind how fast our time has gone. I am thankful for this man I didn’t want and just how much I truly needed him. Now, I fight for life and for many many years together with my husband; grateful to be Mrs. Richard Blake.
How fast the holiday season has come upon us this year.Time seems to pass in the wink of an eye at
times – at others, when worry, fear, exhaustion, politics etc. seeps into our
lives it drags by. That is why we need to REALLY celebrate these special times
of year – in our hearts and memories.
At this time of year, however, our attentions are more often
turned to those things which we do not have…rather than what we do. The
season of want is upon us and by that, I mean the season of nonstop shopping.
Even before we gather around our tables in a few short days to share in our
Thanksgiving dinner; stores and merchants have been blasting Christmas with
little thought to the November holiday devoted to being thankful for our
blessings.
Long before we are even planning our dinners, setting our
tables, and taking time to really giving thanks, stores, newspapers, and
commercials have been blasting Christmas and the gimmees all over the place.
Now, with Thanksgiving day almost upon us, and what do I hear people talking
about? Black Friday. Not their blessings. Not the love of family. They are
talking about black Friday and the four hurried, frenzied, chaotic, often angry
filled weeks of shopping that are ahead… but, to paraphrase Cindy Lou Who “
where is Christmas?”
How many of us believe that if we head out to the stores
late Thursday night or Friday morning after Thanksgiving that it will do our
souls one ounce of good? Time for a reality check? As we all count our
blessings on Thanksgiving day, how many of us actually focus on them and are
not simply giving a rudimentary form of lip service to the “season”?
Before my Thanksgiving dinner guests get to eat, each one must tell me
something they have been thankful for this year.Not once, in my almost 50 plus years of
carrying on this tradition, has any guest EVER said they were thankful for
Black Friday or things.So let me ask
you who are reading this to tell me – what are YOU thankful for this year?
Money is going to have to buy a lot this season and as our
economy worsens, this may be the “new norm” (I hate that term),
however, it can NEVER buy the gifts that count the most:
good health,
a loving supportive
marriage/relationship,
healthy children and
grandchildren,
the fulfillment of
creative expressions,
a general love of
nature,
good friends
love, understanding,
forgiveness
or inner peace.
How often do we forget this? No, it is NOT because we are
ungrateful but because we get distracted by the folly and glimmer of “life”.
NOW is the time to remember!
Let me ask you this; what if the Universe suddenly gave you
a choice? You are guaranteed all of the afore mentioned gifts (blessings) but
you cannot have that new house or 72-inch TV? Or you were granted those
material things but literally throw the dice to determine life’s blessings?
What would you choose? For me, this option has been brought home to me several
times… and though I may not have the best of health etc… I am glad that I
have been blessed and that a fancy home, material things, and status mean
nothing to me or to my sweet husband Dick
So this coming Thanksgiving morning, as I watch the
beginning of a new dawn, place our large Turkey in the oven, and prepare for
loving friends and family to join me in the celebration of blessings and
gratitude, I am meditating on the blessing of health, faith and unconditional
love.
Sadly good health is NOT for sale. Health is a priceless
gift from God that most of us take for granted until we become sick. So today,
take a moment to ponder and realize that even if you have nothing else, if you
have your health you are wealthy indeed. If you have a healthy heart, healthy
mind, and reserves of energy and stamina as well as creative energy and the
ability to see beauty in all things, the world is literally lying at your feet.
Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is faith, there is hope. Where there
is unconditional love, there is healing.
As I continue to battle cancer and now heart disease, as
Dick continues to battle health issues, and my oldest son deals with mental
health issues, I am reminded that health is NOT just the absence of sickness.
To me, good health is vitality, vigor, high energy, emotional equilibrium,
mental clarity, physical endurance and above all faith. These are the gifts I
pray for. These are the gifts I pray for my husband and son to have and the
world to know and share.
So on Thanksgiving morning, I will thank God for the health I do enjoy and
ask for more. If there is only one spiritual lesson that I can give to you
today, it is to ask. Then believe!
Ask and you shall receive. Ask and be specific and if you don’t get it well
at least you tried and the Universe is holding that request for just the right
time.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. Let’s all be thankful and NOT get lost in the
glimmer and the folly.
There was a time when writing letters was our only means of communicating over long distances. Women (and men) went to great effort to make those letters beautiful and meaningful, sometimes adding their own lace or drawings to the writing paper, scenting them with lavender or rose, and honing their handwriting skills until the pages looked as if they were filled with delicate lace etchings.
I always return to this beautiful lost art. I purchased pretty stationary and note cards, pulled out my old sealing wax and stamps, made my own address return labels, plan on buying a new lamp for my writing desk along with pens and pencils, and begin writing to close friends again. I forgot how much I loved doing this; how much I have missed it and how very much I used to look forward to receiving that handwritten, personal letter in the mail. Those who know me well know I LOVE getting cards and letters much, much more then gifts. I save almost everyone I can and recently, when Dick and I were married I saved every one of our wedding cards… They mean so much to me.
Sadly, we have stopped writing letters and notes to loved ones, friends, family… and I firmly believe it is a great loss to our society.
The proliferation of long-distance services has brought the cost of speaking to our of state friends via telephone down drastically, giving us yet another reason to pick up the phone instead of writing. True, most people enjoy the one on one of a personal conversation. After all, interacting is an important component of communication. However, I firmly believe that there are times when writing is better.
Sure, it’s nice to hear someone say, “Honey, I love you.” But to read it in a letter, knowing someone took the time to write it, makes it much more meaningful. It is permanent. And even if, at some time in the future, they take those words back, you still have a permanent record of it. I cherish the little notes on the cards and the books my daughter Mary once gave to me. Though she has refused to speak to me at all in 11 years and, I have learned has told some amazing stories that I have been able to prove untrue, those gifts of her love sustain me. Once written, you can read it over and over again, and cherish it time after time, knowing that someone cared enough to take the time to write. After all, writing is not an automatic response. It requires thought and concentration — and effort. People often speak without thought — it is, for the most part, an automatic response. Texting — well short phrases just don’t translate like a long-handwritten letter. On my wall, beside my desktop is a scrawled handwritten note from my Jessy that she gave me at the age of 18 – it says “the best mom-mom ever”. I read it at least twice every day.
Yes, yes, I understand that the greatly loved ubiquitous e-mail and Instant Message are faster and less time constrained. So. why take the time to write a heartfelt letter when you can sit down, put your thoughts into a few brief sentences (often incomplete and wrought with abbreviated language — <ugh!>) and send it off into the ether of the internet? People forget that the gift of time is the most precious gift we can give another and nothing shares that gift better than a hand written letter with a hand written envelope, written with love and care.
In today’s technological world we have forged connections across our globe that tie us closer together than ever before, revolutionizing what it means to communicate. We can call our loved ones from a thousand miles away. We can Face Time and Skype. We can text. We can communicate with each other at the push of a button — and often, we don’t even think twice about it. However, while these advancements have undoubtedly improved our lives in many ways, they’ve also overshadowed what I believe is an extremely important form of correspondence — letters. Handwritten, paper letters. Cards. Notes. Snail Mail.
Of course, many would call letter writing terribly old-fashioned, but I have always loved getting mail; ever since I was a little girl. Actual, stamped, paper mail. Little packages. Handwritten letters. Greeting cards. Anything. I’ve walk past my mailbox every single day — sometimes more than once a day, if I’m honest — to check to see if it’s full. Most of the time it’s empty, but on those rare occasions when it’s not, my heart leaps up into my chest, and I start fumbling around with the impossibly complicated lock, eager to get at whatever’s inside. That level of enthusiasm might sound a bit silly, but honestly, there are few things these days that make me happier than getting something in the mail.
And as someone who adores writing and receiving letters, this got me thinking about how sad it is that so few people give letter writing a fair chance. Once, back in high school, I told a very good friend of mine that I intended to write to him when we went off to college, and when I asked if he’d write back, he said that it wasn’t 1642 — and besides, stamps were expensive. That answer, while not intended to hurt me, wounded my feelings a little — and remembering that conversation has inspired me to make a point of writing thoughtful letters to the people I care about, especially now during this Covid-19 nonsense which keeps many of us further apart.
So here are 4 reasons why I believe we should all write and send letters more often, even though it isn’t 1642:
They’re Sentimental, Rare, and Romantic
I’ve always been a romantic at heart, and handwritten letters have a wonderful degree of sentimentality. In stories, letters can be so powerful that they alter entire plot lines. Some of the world’s most powerful novels were written in epistolary form — check out the beginning of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, or Dracula by Bram Stoker. And remember how excited Harry was when he finally got his hands on that Hogwarts letter? Didn’t we all wish one would come for us, too?
So let yourself revel in the rarity of receiving a letter. Write to your friends — several of my friends and I have been writing back and forth to each other ever since we left high school, and it’s been a great way to keep our friendship strong. Write a note to your mother and tell her how you’re doing. Write a letter to that teacher – oh so long ago – who made a difference in your life. Or even send a love letter to someone you care about — after all, love letters aren’t just for stories, you know.
They Show Effort — and Often Make Someone’s Day
In our modern age of technology, we’re often focused on getting things done in the quickest, most efficient way possible — and this can sometimes make us forget to stop and smell the roses. Part of what makes receiving a letter so special is the fact that someone took the time to actually sit down and write you a message — out of all the things they needed to do, all the limited time they had, they made writing to you a priority. That feels good, knowing someone cared enough about you to put effort into writing to you.
And this is why it’s so incredibly lovely to receive a letter in the mail, even if it’s just a note of thanks or a brief hello. My friend Debbie wrote to me recently, and reading her little note made my entire day better. Getting a letter communicates to us that we are loved, remembered, acknowledged, missed. It makes us feel valued. And isn’t it amazing that we can make someone we care about feel that way too, just by taking the time to write them a letter? Now, I know we all have busy schedules — I know that time might seem hard to come by. But I believe that it’s a matter of making time, not finding time. And if you really care about someone, it shouldn’t matter how much stamps cost.
Writing Letters is Therapeutic
While receiving a letter has the power to make us feel happy, we can also greatly benefit from just sitting down and writing a letter. When we sit down to compose a message to someone, we actually allow ourselves to take a break from the hectic world around us — the demands and stress of our lives are placed on the back burner while we focus on whatever we’re writing. This sense of escape and quiet reflection makes it possible to be alone with your thoughts for a while, which in turn means that it’s easier to focus on what you’re actually saying in your letter.
And when you’re more aware of what you’re writing, when you’re fully immersed in the task at hand, your words end up meaning more because you’re choosing them carefully instead of mindlessly fumbling off a “K”, “LOL” or “OMG” on a tiny touchscreen keyboard. It’s easy to see, then, how a letter can end up feeling more expressive and genuine to its recipient than a text message might, and how being able to sort out our thoughts and convey our meaning so clearly allows us, as writers, to feel more relaxed and content after we finish writing.
Letters Are Historical Artifacts
These days, so many different things happen on a screen — emails fly in and pile up, texts come and go, information crisscrosses its way all over — and often, it’s easy and even normal for these things to get lost or deleted. The bulk of correspondence is forgotten, which just goes to show how all of these technological “advancements” have weakened communication as much as they’ve strengthened it.
But when we write and receive letters, we actually get to hold on to those words — we have a tangible paper copy, a record, proof. Unlike texts or calls, paper letters are so wonderful because you can always go back and reread them, which often feels like living the entire message all over again. And personally, I think there’s something really profound about being able to reread a letter someone sent you, just to hear their voice in the words again, and imagine how they’d say each of the phrases.
In this sense, letters are like historical artifacts — when we save them and treasure them, we preserve a part of that person, their words, and their relationship to us. And there’s something really beautiful about that. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been to several museums that display handwritten letters as some of the most celebrated artifacts in their collections — history lives on through those letters, and the ones we write are the same. Can’t you see yourself rereading a letter someone wrote to you, after that person is gone? Can’t you see yourself smiling? Anything that can inspire those kinds of feelings is worthwhile — and that is precisely what a simple little letter can do.
So go out and get yourself some fabulous stationery. Write someone a sonnet. Tell your mother all about your crazy week at school. Let your friends know how much you miss them.
Roll up your sleeves, pick up your pen, and write the day away.
Let’s bring back the lost art of letter writing.
But the phone and internet are not the only reasons that people have stopped writing. The greeting card, as well, has usurped letter writing. Is there something meaningful you need to say? Not only ”Happy Birthday” and “Get Well Soon” are available on cards. Today you can go to the store (even the grocery store) and buy a card to say just about anything. “I Miss You”, and “Sorry we had a disagreement”, are just some of the cards available today. Granted, they are nice gestures, but they’re still somebody else’s words. Who really meant what the card has to say — the card’s author or the sender? Am I to be touched by the sentiment because you passed the aisle with cards on your way to pick up toilet paper? Or even better, that you sat in front of your computer and sent electronically?
I’m sorry if I sound flippant. I know that most people truly feel what the card is trying to convey. I myself sometimes buy cards like these, but I write a note or letter to say it in my own words as well. Several of my friends still do this and it always touches my heart and keeps me closer to them.
How I long to receive a three-page, heart-rending, soppy letter, filled with words carefully chosen and eternal. (OK — I’d be happy with one page — I’m not hard to please.) And yes, I have written such letters — with no reply, thank you very much. Maybe I’m just a hopelessly romantic dreamer, or just downright old-fashioned. I make a point of writing a long one to all of our family and friends at Christmas time and I look forward to those who write them as well, letting me catch up on their lives over the last busy year.
Alas, the advent of the telephone in the late 1800’s, cheap long-distance services of today and the ever-growing internet have made writing letters a lost art. But modern technology offers us the opportunity to (almost) bring it back. Forget the tedious chore of putting pen to paper, writing and re-writing. Worry no more about your handwriting, spelling and grammar. Welcome the personal computer with word processing, spell checker and grammar checker. If you’re the slightest bit creative, you can even buy software to create your own beautiful, heartfelt cards, too.
Gone, too, are the use of sealing wax, scented papers, or drawers filled with ribbon tied letters from that special loved one or child. Oh, could we PLEASE bring those back? My dad, Edward Breuilly, always seemed to recognize his adopted daughters NEED to write and quite often presented me with precious gifts… a gold pen with scented ink that smelled like Rose. The scented onion skin stationary (pale blue) that was scented with Heaven Scent Perfume. The electric typewriter he gave me for my 12th birthday (God how I cherished those gifts).
Imagine, cards and letters filled with genuine sincerity from both the author and sender — you. Try it — you’ll like it, and so will your loved ones when they receive it. And who knows, maybe they’ll write you back. Won’t you feel special then?
“An open home, an open heart, here grows a bountiful harvest” ~Judy Hand~
Around this time of year our thoughts turn to family and friends, sometimes lovingly, sometimes with dread. Although the paradigms of the family have changed drastically since the Victorian era, what has not changed is our need for close ties to those who call us their own.
The truth of the matter is that life often frays the ties that bind families. Some families are separated by distance, others by estrangement, and still others by obligation. Differences in opinions, lifestyles, religion and politics tug at the seams of even the best sewn family quilt. I remember our pastor stating at our wedding ceremony that “life is easy, until people enter into it.” Pastor Jeff was on target there but oh how empty and lonely it is without them.
However, it is possible to draw close to those we love if we plan for it. It seems counter intuitive that we must make time for love, whether it’s carving out time for a romantic interlude with a significant other, setting up an official lunch date with a dear friend, or penciling in along telephone call with a brother or sister, a favorite cousin, or a childhood friend. But, in this fast-paced world, it actually is a MUST. You MUST schedule in the time to show love, to show care…
I think because I was adopted and always craved a connection with others, I became one of those people who remembers my large extended family and my circle of friends. I have birthdays and anniversaries on my calendar, and I strive to ensure everyone is remembered on their special days. I still send out Thanksgiving cards and Christmas cards… cost of stamps be damned, to let them know, up close and personal, that I am thinking of them and that, even though I am far away, or there may be anger in our midst, my love endures- always. I will write handwritten letters to friends to catch up with them.
I was asked how I manage to remember birthdays etc… well, when I pay the bills at the beginning of each month, I also note whose birthdays are coming up as well as special anniversaries. I am not always able to afford cards some months, but I always send out a text message or an email to let them know they are remembered and that they are important to me. All of those I call friends remain important to me no matter the distance, the time, or the disagreements. We are all human and we will not always agree, but I will always love… always.
One of the things I have done throughout the years is send many of my female friends a book “Simple Abundance”, it is a book I have turned to and read EVERY day of my life for the past 25 years. I can highly recommend it just as a way of meditation. Simple, creative gestures should become a part of all of our lives as we reach out to family and friends to strengthen bonds and renew memories. It does not take much time or even much money. If you live away from family members, schedule telephone calls on a regular basis. I used to call my Mom and Dad EVERY Sunday…. They are gone from me now, but the memories of those weekly calls remain with me forever. I hope they remained with them as well. Elderly parents, neighbors, friends, need the reassurance of a weekly check in that they can count on and look forward to. It costs us nothing… but it gives so very much. Schedule that time in as well.
The first time that my new husband saw me writing out our Christmas cards, he was amazed that I sent out over 147 cards last year and asked me why, in this modern age, I did it? I do it because of the letters or calls I get from older friends who say, “thank you Bonnie for remembering me. I so look forward to your cards and letters.” I am also one of those who puts in a yearly newsletter and who looks forward to getting some back from my friends who share with me their past year in retrospect. All it takes to bring a smile to someone’s face, to touch a heart, to heal a soul, is the gift of time and thought.
Whenever possible, share family stories, record them so they won’t get lost. I am always grateful God blessed me with a need to write as, starting as a young teen, I would journal about my grandparents and parents “stories”. Go through you old family photographs and have copies made for everyone. If you have not yet started – take an excessive number of photographs, stuff them into scrapbooks, and make sure you share them with your children, grandchildren and friends.
Family reunions seem to have also become a thing of the past. Start a new tradition today and don’t give up. Get your family and your friends together – OFTEN! Relish the times you spend with those you love for our time here on this great earth is limited. Don’t spend it in excuses, what-ifs, buts, or in anger and frustration. Spend it in the doing and the planning and the realization that none of us, not a single bloody one of us, is perfect. As humans we will sometime, without meaning to, hurt ones we love. Don’t hold onto that. Hold onto the lifetime of it all for most of it is wonder-filled!
In closing today, I want to leave you with the words of the French Philosopher Simone Weil “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” I think this is a wonderful thought to meditate upon during this season of Thanksgiving, don’t you?
Then know, how deeply grateful I am to all of you; my readers, family, and friends alike.
Halloween has become vastly different from the Halloween of my childhood and that of my own three children. Aside from the scamdemic that has made so many people fearful to live, the increase of noxious treats handed out by cruel insane individuals and child predators keep most children from celebrating this magical time of year – a time of wonder, and make believe, and dress up, and let’s pretend…
Then too, in over the 24 years I have lived here in AZ, I learned that not many children came out in my various neighborhoods, and they were already diminishing in my Pensacola neighborhood the year I said goodbye, and I have grown despondently used to the lack of their presence and laughter in our society.
It is so sad because I can recall in years gone by the happiness and joy of children on this special night… now there is so much darkness, distrust and fear. I remember small town Halloween parties, barn parties, street parties… receiving homemade popcorn balls and caramel apples and hot spiced cider. I remember bobbing for apples, playing the lifesaver game with a toothpick and hoping it would drop at just the right moment for a quick touch of lips with that special boy, hayrides and cuddling and a bonfire with the smell of fall leaves all around. I remember…
I remember the parties I gave my three children (initially started when hurricanes prevented my special needs cub scouts (pack 645 sponsored by the Al Grey Chapter of the Disabled Vets in Pensacola FL, from being able to go out trick or treating). A lot of work went into those parties- but oh the fun. Spider phobic as I am, I would dress up as a black widow spider and while my husband, Doug, would be out with the kids trick or treating, I would be playing War of the Worlds on the stereo, all of the lights in the house off (only candles lit) and spider webs all through the house with other magical items, motion activated, waiting to “JUMP” out at the unsuspecting at just the right time. My black rocking chair would be behind a spider web and as the children would come through the front door to help themselves to the bowls of candy that were placed just inside the door way, I would appear from behind, holding a candelabra in one hand and a smoking skull in my other. (The second year I did this two mothers left their little ones at my door and took off like a shot. As my make-up was thick and prevented me from talking, I had to motion to my neighbor to go and get the mothers to come back and bet their terrified toddlers.) I would make homemade treats from boo cupcakes, spider ding dongs, witches brew, caramel apples, popcorn balls, and other good things for the children to enjoy when they came back to the party after trick or treating.
We would play games of bobbing for apples, trying to catch a hanging apple in their teeth with their hands behind their backs, and other games and then just prior to settling them down for some good ghost stories, they would get to break open a pinata. I remember my English son, Michael Bond, dressed as Dracula the last year I gave a party. The make up and costumes I did for my own children… They brought me far much more joy then I ever hope I gave them.
We made the local newspaper a couple of times with our decorations, costumes, and ghost stories; the adults would line our home stairwell just to partake in the festivities and the ghouls dinner that always closed the night. I was amazed to find, after the lights came on, that our hall entry way and stairwell was lined, not with children, but with adults who had come to join us. We lived on the Navy base and people came in just to visit with us that night… I had hoped to do this type of party one last time for all of my grandchildren… just one more time to let them see what this special night was truly meant to be. That too is something now that can never be.
I now live in a new neighborhood and was blessed three years ago to have MANY children out trick or treating despite the scamdemic. Laughter filled the streets. As I drove myself to work on October 4 this year, my neighbors were already decorating their homes and yards — magic has not truly died. The year before last I was far too ill to truly enjoy it, but this year despite health issues I am hoping to have enough energy to cut out a jack-o-lantern or two and hand out candy and participate in the magic once more. (Pumpkins will be carved Monday afternoon with the help of my oldest son Douglas and candy is in the large bowls for those who still believe in magic.)
Then, when the trick or treaters are through, around 8:30 p.m., I shall step outside on the patio under the stars… prepare a small fire… light my candles and incense and perform my yearly rituals. I shall send a letter to that special one who is on another plane now, whose loss in my soul has not decreased even after 25 years… I shall drink a toast with my best wine to all those I love who have gone on before, Uncle Bill, my father and mother Ed and Mary Breuilly, Tom McCloud, Eric Lemieux, Lucy, Harry, Mrs. Rodden, Aunt Nellie, Aunt Margaret, Uncle Jack, Uncle Harold, Aunt Ann, Aunt Katie, Aunt Sophie, Jimmy Ugorek, Bobby Klepper, Rodney, Tom F, David Pike and others whom I miss dearly – and ask their blessings for my future as I let go of this year’s past mistakes, loss, and pain, which have been numerous… I shall wish upon the brightest star and let the love of the Universe once again fill my heart… and I shall thank GOD for the ability to have this time.
I shall pray for just enough… just enough money to pay my bills, just enough life left to serve my purpose, just enough love to cover the hearts who still need me, just enough joy to share with a stranger, just enough strength to get up one more day, just enough… just enough…
This makes my 25th year without my beloved Doug… and my fourth Halloween with my new husband… I pray this coming year will be less difficult and filled with laughter, love, and prosperity, for me, my family, my friends and all those I love so very much.
Yesterday, overhearing a young woman discuss trying to use an AI like ChatGPT to help rewrite a book she was hoping to one day published, I felt sad for our future – the future of administrative assistants, writers, painters, musicians and more. To lose all hope of individual creativity and dreams because we are going to rely on computers to write and dream for us? No, it is not something I could ever agree to use or will use –
You see, when I write, I fall into the zone many writers, painters, musicians, athletes, and craftsmen of all sorts seem to share: In doing something I enjoy and am fairly good at, deliberate thought falls aside and it is all just THERE. I think of the next word no more than the composer thinks of the next note. This is what many of us refer to as “our muse” – I call it God inspired/life and dream activated. Because of the muse things flow from us
We use the word “flow” to describe the state of being completely present and fully immersed in a task, and it’s a relatively new concept. The term was first coined by a Hungarian American researcher named Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in 1990, when he documented and analyzed reports of this heightened state from athletes, writers, painters, and musicians alike. They all described how, when they were “in the flow,” distractions fell away, time seemed to warp, and ideas floated up seemingly out of nowhere. I happen to have two copies of his book “Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience” and have read the book several times over the past almost 30 years. I highly recommend it.
Initially, Csikszentmihalyi theorized that flow occurred when the challenge of a given task perfectly matched the ability of the person doing the work. But over the subsequent decades of research, scientists discovered that the levels of challenge and ability are actually only part of a complex picture. Flow, we now know, is directly related to focus.
The human brain, much like a computer, has limited processing power, and intense focus on a specific task limits the brain’s ability to organize input from other sources. As a result, when we are in a state of heightened focus, we literally cannot spare a thought to compare ourselves to others or notice the minute hand on the clock.
Still, for all the science around flow, this zen-like zone of productivity and creativity remains elusive. Cultivating the kind of focus required to tap into a state of flow takes practice and training, but it is well worth the effort. An ability I fear that will be lost in the world of AI — but at least not in my life, goals or writing. What I write will be all mine – God and life inspired and directed.
Almost 20 years ago, I dated the Science Fiction writer Charles Platt for about three or four months. I was actually in awe that this accomplished writer saw anything in me at all… and was often tongue tied and befuddled on the dates we went out on; almost to the point of feeling like a girl in school again. However, I did read everything he had written (and I am not much of a Science Fiction fan) and he read a little bit of my poetry… after which he labeled me “a romantic”. This set me back, quite a bit; maybe a little too far back at the time as a romantic is something I NEVER felt myself to be. I have not once read a single Romance Novel… and am not all that fond of romance movies (except maybe at Christmas time on the Hallmark channel). Except for my book of poetry that I wrote after falling in love with my second husband Dick, after 20 years of widowhood, I don’t consider most of my poems especially romantic. Silly to call me a “romantic”; I actually felt a little insulted.
Now, do I love to stargaze? Do I love to watch the sunrise over the Superstitions? Or watch the sky become a blaze of color as it sets? Can I find beauty in the worst of rain storms? Do I see past the scars of life on the face of a friend to the beautiful soul and heart that beats within? Do I hold a sense of absolute wonder in a rainbow, or the flight of a red-tailed hawk, or walking through a forest of jewels (known as the petrified forest)? Do I love a candlelit room and a good glass of wine? Can I feel every ounce of love I felt for my first born and all of my children when I held my grandchildren or when I first held my great granddaughter? Yes to all of those. So, in retrospect… am I a romantic? Nah—I can’t be. I am tough as nails and have stood up against every adversity life has thrown at me… haven’t I?
But Deep down inside, isn’t there a romantic soul hidden within every woman?
Maybe, but she’s not going to let anyone see that side of her outside of context. Romance is something special. It’s a gift. It’s a gateway to her body, and her mind, and everything else in between.
Romance is something that doesn’t just happen to her, it’s something that releases from her. Romantic vibes only happen when all the pieces are connected. One way to reveal the emotional aspects of a woman whose commitment runs deep is by dating her, but you also need to know the signals she gives that say there’s more to see.
Simple, and silly, it’s a chase of the heart that’s seriously necessary. Don’t dismiss this key truth about being with a woman; we all need romance.
At least, don’t bother unless you want amazing sex in the bedroom or a woman who will stand by your side during the worst of times. It’s in the seeing of the signals that she’s expressing her love, then the actual dating of her that cultivates a woman’s romantic side into the surface. Romance is a relational spell caster to lasting love, for sure.
It doesn’t really matter if she’s your high school sweetheart or if you’ve been married for 50 years. A woman of depth wants to know her man is in hot pursuit of her heart. So, given this definition… maybe I am a romantic??
A romantic woman has one wish— to experience everything with her man.
She loves to fall in love over and over again. Sometimes when she doesn’t show her romantic side, it’s because she secretly longs for her lover to bring that side of her out.
It makes perfect sense that the want to be discovered would be found at the center of a truly deep woman because, I believe, at the core of a real man is the need to pursue and win over his woman’s heart. Maybe I am a romantic??
2. A romantic woman loves to spend quality time with you.
The less expensive the moment, the more meaningful the experience. Just think, walks on a mountain trail while holding hands.
A hug during a sunset. A kiss on the forehead. Those cost nothing, but they reap a value money can never buy— love. I always tell my husband Dick, that I am a “cheap date” because, ultimately, these are the things that make me happy. Yep… I might be a romantic.
3. A woman who is completely hung up on the romance of life wants her sentimental side respected, but she also wants it cherished.
She’s the one who remembers exactly how your mother made your favorite meal, or where you like your shoulders rubbed after a long, hard day.
Her memory of these things are the ways she uses her love to reconnect with you.
Women are natural caretaker types and knowing that her touch can have such an impact on her man makes her feel like a woman. Well, I do love caring for my man… making sure he has his favorite foods, watches his favorite shows, enjoys his favorite hobbies. I try to remember all of his relative’s birthdays. I want to make Christmas special for him again… Yep, I might be a romantic.
4. She might talk all day to coworkers and people she meets all day, but realize this, most of the time it’s because she has to. When she takes the time to talk to you, it’s not like that — she’s talking to you because she wants to.
When a romantic woman with a tough exterior and professional power suit is a hopeless romantic, you’ll know. Well, he is the first person I think of before I fall asleep and the first one I think of when I wake up. I never leave the house without bringing him in a fresh cold drink and kissing him goodbye. Maybe I am a romantic?
5. She’ll text you “I love you” during her most important meetings.
It brings her pleasure to know she’s made you smile, and especially if she knows she got you a little distracted and turned you on. I was doing this constantly in our first year together… but as he does not go up on line frequently, I sometimes just leave little notes around the house. Guess that makes me a romantic?
6. A woman who is a hopeless romantic loves surprises.
If she knows she’s appreciated for who she is by the way you treat her, she’s likely to surprise you in bed and out. A romance not only triggers the emotional side of a woman, but it also brings out her wild side, too. Want to see her in a t-shirt and nothing else? Romance that girl.
Suddenly, you get more than you gave in return. She’ll know how to reciprocate. If she knows that tickets to your favorite game is what will bring you closer, don’t be surprised if that’s what she’s got planned. But while you’re at the game, don’t forget, a little hand on the knee will make sure you score your own touchdown at home. Hmmm… I never thought I was much for surprises, but you know what? Maybe I am. I am generally the surprise though. Does that make me a Romantic?
7. She shows you support during hard times.
It takes a lot of love and courage to stand by your man when the going gets rough. Tough times rocks the security of a woman.
Stress makes a woman forget that love is important, but a romantic woman will gladly remember that all you need is love when you show your appreciation for the things she does. Okay, I totally believe that love can conquer all… you just have to hang on and remember why you fell in love in the first place. Does that make me a romantic??
8. She understands that time is a limited resource, so she tries to make your life easier.
A woman who loves romance knows that life happens, but it’s taking care of each other that matters most. With her hair up in a mess and the phone to her ear, she’ll schedule appointments, car repairs, and even dinner to see your friends. A deep woman isn’t afraid to do unglamorous tasks, especially if her heart knows she’s serving her loved ones and making sure they have their needs met.
9. She cherishes when you do things like chores and tuck the kids into bed.
A romantic woman adores watching her man do things that she would usually do herself, but you took the time to carry that burden. After basically being on my own for 20 years (and being a Navy wife for 28 years prior to my first husband’s death) I am strongly independent but oh how wonderful it is to have him care enough to do dishes with me, take care of our lawn, take out the trash… simple things which say so much to me. Guess that makes me a romantic??
10. A woman who is a romantic remembers the things you forgot, and steps in to make sure you don’t look silly for it.
If you forgot your mother’s birthday, don’t be surprised if she’s the one who bought a card and sent a gift in the mail. If you are cranky when you’ve had too much caffeine and there’s a business meeting in the morning, she will nag you not to take that second cup of coffee on your way out the door. These tasks sometimes come across as mothering but to a romantic woman, this is her way of saying you’re her baby, her one and only, and the man she’s happy to pamper with her love.
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11. A hopelessly romantic woman will get along with people she doesn’t even like to make your life easier.
You know that ex-girlfriend or wife of yours (who is the mother of your children) and always tries to start trouble? The reason she’s nice to her all the time is because she knows that you are less stressed out because of it. It’s the depth of love that stirs a woman to do what she’d rather not. What she wants you to do when it’s just the two of you again is take her to paradise and remind her why your relationship will always last. Well, Dick and I both came with enough baggage to support a Circus troup. We each dig hard to help the other stay out of the ruts carrying that baggage can create. Does that make me a romantic?
12. When you mess up, she accepts your apologies and tucks away the blush your cheeks had when you said you were sorry.
As annoying and hurt as she may feel, she loves to hear an apology. She loves to know that she meant enough to you to make things better. A romantic woman knows what it’s like to swallow pride. The fact that you do means the world to her, even if she doesn’t let you off the hook right away. People in my life seldom if ever say they are sorry… but when they do… my heart does melt. Does this make me a romantic?
13. Her favorite idea of a fancy date is anywhere that you can be all legs and arms wrapped around each other without speaking any words.
A hopelessly romantic woman loves physical touch as much as you do. Her idea of adventure is exploring each other’s bodies and having permission to release her own sexual desires. Well, at our ages, I love the cuddling that is a fact. I love sitting beside him on the couch and just kissing or holding one another… We always fall asleep holding hands or spooning. Does that make me a romantic?
14. She believes romance, hugs, and laughter can fix any problem.
Really. If you’ve ever wondered why good women end up with bad guys first, and good guys last, the reason can be found in the way that they are romanced in those relationships. A bad guy knows how to say the things she wants to hear, and often lands her with a broken promise and a wounded heart. A romantic woman loves to hear how you make her feel and when it’s said in just the right way, she loves to wind up in bed to show you her appreciation. Oh I am so past this phase of life, aren’t I?
In reviewing all of these “pre requisites” of being a romantic, I guess maybe my old friend Charles was right. I am a romantic… And you know what? I LOVE IT.
Years ago today, the Universe welcomed my soul mate, Douglas James Pike into this world. I can’t help but wonder what he would look like today. As I watch older couples walk through stores or down a street and see them holding hands… I long for his touch as well and wish we were together again. Forty-four years and 11 months later after his birthday, God took him home… and I am still am so lost without him. Seeing our old friends Randy and Joey or Chuck and Dot still laughing and loving together makes me long for what might have been. I so wonder what he would look like today at 70… When I dream of him now, he is always around 32 years old – would he still have hair today? Would it be snow white? Would we have managed to buy that travel trailer, or homesteaded up in Montana? Or bought the houseboat? Dreams that can never be realized.
Although I have moved on in love with Dick (whom one day Doug will meet), I will not allow his memory to die — he lives on in my heart and in the hearts of our children and all those who love him.
Wishing you a Happy Heavenly Birthday my love. Wait for me on Brickyard Road… someday we will celebrate it together again… in style
21 years ago this month, my first book was published; “SURVIVE THE SHADOW STALKER; A POETIC JOURNEY THROUGH ABUSE. It was a promise I had made to my late husband Douglas J Pike and with the help and support of the West Florida Literary Federation, my daughter and Dr Jack Brooking, as well as with the wonderful talents of Rebecca Hosking, a singer songwriter and artist who created the initial cover and all of the drawing within, I kept my promise. It was the book that started it all. It was also the book the nearly ended it all as the few times I went to promote the book (once up to Chicago and the other to New Orleans), I unfortunately triggered some members of my audience which caused them to have “meltdowns” during the reading. Initially, it told over 6,000 copies in the first couple of months, it was reproduced in France and Hong Kong and in Germany. I pulled it from the market but after much cajoling from good friends and fellow writers, I re-released it with a new cover in paperback form (much more affordable) and it still is selling on Amazon and can be ordered through most major book stores.
Survive the Shadow Stalker; A Poetic Journey Through abuse, tells the stories of women and men it has been my privilege to work with, counsel, and befriend. It is a product of personal survival as well as over sixteen years of research, interviews, and support into the lives of others who have been victimized. Divided into three sections Victim, Survivor, and Thriver – it shows the various stages of loss to hope to recovery. Although the majority of the poems cover the terrible tragedy of child abuse in all its forms, there are also poems/prosody regarding the pain suffered from illness, disability, rape, war, and loneliness. Often, as we go through life, we fail to recognize that not everyone handles these things in similar fashion. We need to learn to listen to one another to prevent anymore victimization or the need to survive the shadow stalker, which haunts so many on a daily, hourly, or even minute by minute basis.
For those who may be repelled at the contents of the first two parts of this book, or who choose to disbelieve the pain imparted in these pages, I ask that, for the sake of those presently in recovery for for the future generations to come, you open your mind and your heart and experience the reality. The final section of the book will let you see what this type of perseverance can and will hold for victims everywhere; it holds hope and peace.
It is my intent to do a reading from this book on October 28 live on Faceboook if I can get all of the electronic necessities in place.
Until then, to those who have regularly supported my writing – I give my heart felt thanks. To those who have yet to experience it – I hope you will.
Bonnie Blake-- Author/Poet 