Love #3

Books. The Written Word. Whether fiction or non-fiction, fantasy, mysteries, or young adult, books have been my friends from the very beginning. My father was determined to teach me to read by the time I was four and he very nearly did it. If he hadn't passed away that year I am sure he would have succeeded. My very earliest memories were of sitting on Daddy's lap in the rocking chair while he read Dr. Seuss's Green Eggs and Ham and Are you my Mother?

After he died I went through a couple of years of not wanting to read. I think it was because it reminded me so much of him and it hurt too much. As a result I was in the lowest reading group in first grade. I had no interest in it and stubbornly refused to put in the effort.

One day I came home from school and Mom and I sat down to talk. I don't remember much of what she said to me, but I do remember her reminding me of how much Daddy loved words and how sad he would be to know I had turned away from them. Most importantly she said that by sharing his love of books I could make him a part of my life by loving what he loved. It completely changed my attitude and within just a few weeks I'd gone from the lowest reading group to the highest. I just needed the right motivation, I guess.

We lived in the country through elementary, middle, and most of jr. high school (middle school was grades 4, 5, and 6 for me) so there wasn't a lot to do during the summer. Every couple of weeks Mom would take us to the library and my brother and I would check out as many books as they would allow. I found that I particularly enjoyed mythology from around the world. I didn't just read greek and roman myths, I read japanese and native american myths as well. I read ghost stories and mysteries and supposedly non-fictional accounts of alien kidnappings. I tried to read War and Peace when I was ten. I didn't get very far, but I tried. I was willing to give every world in every book a chance.

In sixth grade my teacher tried something that was new for me. We had reading time once a week where she would pass out a whole bunch of books and we would read from each one for five to ten minutes. That was the year I discovered Madeleine L'engle's A Wrinkle in Time and C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. That same year I was going through a box of books belonging to my brother-in-law, mostly filled with Louis L'Amour but near the bottom I found a copy of Edgar Rice Burroughs A Princess of Mars. Suddenly books weren't about things happening in our own world, they were of new worlds where amazing things could happen. The world opened up before me then and I came to believe that anything was possible.

Books were my friends when nobody was around and to this day I find myself turning to the written word when I'm depressed or feeling insecure. Sometimes too much so. In college, I spent the weeks before I got mono reading David Eddings Belgariad and Mallorean series all night long.

My brother and I grew up playing what we called "Space", which was basically an imaginary make-believe game that had us becoming anything from Luke Skywalker to a knight in shining armor. Strangely, there were never many princesses that needing saving in our games. We both wanted to be the knight, homemade swords, shields, crossbows and all. Books inspired that creativity in us and let us be a part of their world.

I think I'm a better person because of it.

Love #2

I will readily admit that I am a music addict and have been since my earliest days. I grew up having it play in the background from morning until night, a constant accompaniment to the events of our lives. A meal without music was dead air. Sleep refused to come without the soothing tones. It was an integral part of each waking moment and many times part of my dreams.

I had a dream once as a teenager. I was in a dungeon. The walls were lined with moss and mold and dripped water in a constant pattern. Drip. Drip. Drip. I stood in line with several prisoners, or feet shackled together as we marched forward to the rhythm of dripping water, a black-hooded axeman leading the way. Suddenly one of the people in line started whistling and singing. "Here's a little song I wrote, might wanna sing it note for note, don't worry . . . be happy. In every life we have some trouble, when you worry you make it double, don't worry . . . be happy." Everybody in the line started harmonizing the different parts and the big axeman with his deep voice would say the line, "Don't worry, be happy now." I woke up laughing, hearing the end of the song trailing off on the radio.

Mom taught me to appreciate the classics. When we'd have music appreciation days in elementary and middle school and would do reports on composers the other kids would choose metallica and Pat Benatar. I brought Tchaikovsky and Rachmoninoff and strangely nobody teased me about it. They were interested in hearing more.

Nowadays my tastes run from the water music of Smetana's Moldau to the haunting sound of Laura Fabian's Dream Within from the Final Fantasy soundtrack. I love classical, country, pop, rock, alternative, new age, electronica, dance music, and the list goes on and on.

Music has created the sountrack of my life. It has been there through the highest pinnacles and the deepest sorrows, and it's not just the listening of it I enjoy, but also the playing. I've tinkered with the piano, got a scholarship with the flute, tapped into my celtic roots with the pennywhistle, and picked up bits and pieces of the saxaphone, clarinet, recorder, and harmonica. Music flows through my veins and sometimes I even write it down. At times when I couldn't process what I was feeling with the written word, music did it for me, whether in a piece I composed myself or one that touched my heart.

Music is the language of the soul.

A Valentines Challenge

My friend Christine came up with this awesome idea of listing daily throughout February the things that I love. I think it's a fantastic idea and something I need to be reminded of when days are hard. That being said, here is today's item.

I have come to understand and appreciate the importance of family throughout this challenging year. I lost the woman who'd had the greatest influence in my life, but suddenly found myself surrounded by people I didn't know really cared. I've got five brothers and sisters, dozens of nieces and nephews, a fantastic husband and children, and in-laws who I finally see as real people. I've also gained friends who I've adopted into my family and are there with open arms and a listening ear when I need shoulder.

Today my big brother said he loved me. I don't ever remember those words coming from him. It melted an iceberg I'd held in my heart. I am blessed with a fantastic family; funny, sincere, some of them a little gross at times, but always, always loving.

I love them, every one.

Making a Difference

When I first started taking writing really seriously I started looking for places online that would support my writing habit and found this really helpful and friendly place called "The NoteBored." I quickly made friends with the master of the site and after a couple of years she wanted to have a NoteBored getogether so I actually flew out of state to meet my online friends in person and had an amazing visit with them. I'm afraid I've been rather lax about staying in touch, but they are a group of people that will always have a home in my heart.

Anyway, while I was there, my friend's daughter quickly became a new friend and she wrote poems for all of us. I am hoping it is okay with her to post this poem here because it has meant the world to me. I keep it posted on my board next to my computer and read it every day for many reasons. One, it's beautiful. Two, in the short time she knew me she captured me pretty well I thought and she was only 13 or 14 at the time. Three, It gives me hope. I think you'll understand why when you read it. Without any further ado then, here is "Karen--Silverfoot" (that was my nick-name).

She is in the time of midnight. Where the silver moon shines

down on the dark earth.

Her fruit is a grape vine. Growing taller, longer, and

stronger.

Like the water shoes on the side of the beach, she gets sodden

through constant forces of waves in fury and stress. She is

intended for that and never gives up on the strength of the

wave.

Her song is "unwritten"

She is a crystal and has uniqueness for one to see right

through her and know she is a good person.

She is the roar of laughter

The time of the fantastical future.

the element of water.

She will hold a special place in our lives.

Thanks for making a difference in my life, Dea and Aly, and Tristi and Melinda, and Shari and Candace and Julie and Ali and Haley and Rachelle all the rest of you who comment and call when I need a friendly word. (Gotta love those run-on sentences) Just like this poem you make a diference in my life every time you enter it.

And Melinda? Don't faint. I posted three days in a row just for you. Hee Hee Hee

Quote of the Day: "It only takes one person to change your life – you."

~Ruth Casey

A Much Delayed Tag

My bestest friend tagged me clear back in November and I'm just now getting around to this. Sorry, Sis! Here it is now for what it's worth.

Eight Things on My Wish List:

1. A publishing contract
2. An agent
3. A castle tour through Europe
4. A Getaway Cruise with my hat sisters
5. A New York Times Bestselling book
6. Daughters
7. Sleep!
8. A housekeeper

Eight TV Shows I Like to Watch:

1. Sanctuary
2. The Ghost Whisperer
3. Fringe
4. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition
5. Iron Chef America
6. All the CSI's
7. Criminal Minds
8. The 11th Hour

Eight Things That Happened Yesterday:

1. Brainstormed plot and characters with Shari
2. Went to see the psychologist
3. Went to the Chiropractor
4. Went to Critique Group
5. Got my car stuck in the snow
6. Visited with my friend Haley
7. Drank A LOT of Pepsi
8. Didn't get nearly enough sleep

Eight people I am tagging.

1. Anybody
2. and
3. Everybody
4. who
5. wants
6. to
7. join
8. in.

Quote of the Day: "Everething that doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. And later on you can use it in some story."

~Tapani Bagge

Stepping Outside My Comfort Zone

I've joined a yahoo group that deals specifically with the loss of mothers. I have been amazed at how much comfort and wisdom has come from the group. There have been several times when something has been said that I've pondered throughout the following days and weeks and it made me want to give something back.


I am a rather shy and private person by nature. I don't usually open myself up completely for the world to see, but the comfort I've gained from others' experiences had made me feel that I needed to start another blog completely devoted to the letters I write to Mom that have helped me so much in the healing process. I may even consider opening it up to a few others who write their own letters to their mothers on the other side. I just think it's a great way to offer comfort and support to those who are struggling through this.


Anyway, if you're interested in taking a peek, you can find Letters to Mom here. Have a fantabulous day and Happy Writing to you all!

Quote of the Day: "It's better to write about things you feel than about things you know about."

L P. Hartley

Letters to the Other Side

I finally went to see a psychologist who deals in grieving and she has made a profound difference in my life. She told me to keep the relationship alive with my mother. That particular phrasing hit me like nothing has since I lost Mom. I believe in an afterlife. I believe Mom's spirit is not far away and I've felt her close by on many occasions. The problem has always been that I couldn't really communicate with her. I talked to her on occasion but for some strange reason she didn't answer back and it frustrated me.

The doctor's solution? Write letters to my mom. It has changed my life.

I know that sounds rather dramatic, but when you've been living in a hole for five months, seeing the sunlight again is a rather dramatic thing. I've found hope again. When I write I can hear Mom's voice in my thoughts, perhaps the memories of conversations before or bits of knowing her so well I know how she would respond. It's as if I can finally have a conversation with her, even beyond the veil to eternity and it has begun to fill a bit of the hole her absence has caused. I'm not all the way back. I don't know if I ever will be, but I can write again. It started with the letters, and that has inspired me to start writing a new book, which in turn has brought me back to my blogs. Thank you for your patience, dear readers. I shall be more dedicated with my blogging and I promise you I shall not only blog, but I shall write stories like never before. Writing brings peace. Writing brings joy in a time filled only with sorrow. Writing has brought me full circle back to myself and knowing it is one of those things I just have to do.

Writing has brought me back home. One person short. A little more fragile. But a better person for the experience.

Quote of the Day: "The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium."

~Norbet Platt