Archives 2008 Non-Fiction
THE IRON by Sandy Green Mom smoothed the tablecloth on the kitchen table and sat across from my sister. “If you don’t take Levitt’s offer and move with them to Elyse blinked. In my nine-year-old mind, a week had passed before she replied. “Okay, I’ll tell them tomorrow.” Within a month, Elyse had filled boxes with her clothes, books, saxophone, and some mismatched dishes. The Saturday morning that she left, I pretended to be asleep. I felt her pause in my doorway. I didn’t want to her to say good-bye and not mean ‘until you come home from school’ or ‘see you later when I get off work.’ She breathed and whispered, “I hope you have as nice a childhood as I had.” The night before she left, Elyse had crammed the boxes in her old car that she had decorated by painting daisies on the back bumper. On that grim and gloriously sunny next morning, she took off for the wilds of Great Neck, After her move, Elyse came home to visit almost every weekend. She’d stay in my room because our other sister, Leila, had taken over her old room. We’d shop for groceries because it was cheaper than in Then on Sunday afternoons, she’d disappear down the road and around the corner. I’d stand on the sidewalk and sadly wave to the daisy-covered bumper. Two hours later, and halfway through a Nancy Drew mystery, we parked in front of a green, rambling house. Elyse shared the upstairs part of the home with another girl from her office. We went out to dinner before Dad drove me and Mom home. It was too dark to read, and I fell asleep in the back seat watching the street lights flip by the window. From my upstairs bedroom a few days later, I heard Dad say, “She doesn’t need it.” “Of course, she does,” said Mom. I moved to the top of the stairs. “She can borrow her roommate’s,” he said. “I’m telling you, she doesn’t need it.” Paper rustled from the living room below. Mom sighed. The front door opened and whooshed close. I crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky one. Mom sat on the sofa in front of a box on the coffee table. “What’s that?” I asked. “An iron,” said Mom. “Who’s it for?” “Elyse,” she said. I sidled around the table and plopped next to Mom. Irons weren’t very interesting, but this must have been something great if Elyse were getting it. “Can I see it?” “Sure.” Mom slid the box toward me. I peeled the paper away and used both hands to heave its silver body out of the box. It looked like a regular iron to me. “When are you giving it to her?” “Next time she comes down.” “Why doesn’t Dad want to give it her? What’s wrong with it?” I laid it back in the box. She smiled. “Nothing’s wrong with it. Dad thinks giving Elyse an iron is too permanent. Even though she’s the oldest, she’s still his baby, and not supposed to be old enough to move out.” I frowned, trying to figure this out in my brain. Elyse was, after all, an old lady of twenty. “You mean he thinks she might come back and live here? She does come back and see us, but I guess it’s not the same thing.” Mom nodded. The next time Elyse came to visit, she packed the iron in her car when it was time to leave. # # # I don’t know how Dad felt about our other sister moving out or about me for that matter. I don’t remember either of us getting irons. But I did get a typewriter. Maybe when the first child grows up and leaves home, the family fabric is torn, and inevitably, it continues to rip with each departure. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. All I know is that now I have a sixteen-year-old daughter myself who rarely uses an iron. I don’t even think she knows how to use one. In any case, the fabric will tear, but Olivia will always be welcome to borrow my iron or hair dryer or nail polish when she leaves our house for good and comes home to visit. In two much-too-short years. Works by Cynthia Whiteford My Viking Warrior Princess In the confines of my purse is a medallion that enables me to face each day with hope, determination and strength. It’s oblong in shape, made of clear glass surrounded by a silver border, and suspends from a long silver-beaded chain. It’s small and fits snugly in the palm of my hand. A sepia picture of a Viking woman warrior in full battle regalia resides within the glass. Along her side is “Goddess of Strength”. The flip side reads: When you don’t think you have the strength to deal with all that is facing you…wear this talisman as a reminder that, deep within, you have all the resources you need to move forward. I received it from my dear friend, Susan, on my forty-sixth birthday. We’ve long had a debate about strength through adversity – she’d say I was strong and I’d laughingly disagree. Even after my husband’s debilitating illness and five successive surgeries, lost income, repossession, and threatened foreclosure, I still did not see myself as strong. A week before my forty-seventh birthday, I was diagnosed with late-stage metastatic uterine cancer and underwent surgery followed by radiation therapy. After about the sixth radiation treatment, side effects kicked in full force and I quit. To no avail, my cancer counselor and I brainstormed for visualization techniques to help me continue treatments. I left in tears, vowing not to continue. As I lay on the sofa later that day, my eyes drifted to the coffee table. A glimmer of silver peeked out from under a scrap of paper. I moved the paper and saw the medallion, still wrapped in its protective plastic cover. I suddenly remembered having put it there during the hectic days before my cancer surgery. I removed the plastic and examined the picture. Immediately, I saw her inside me zapping the cancer cells with her mighty pitchfork. I could hear her cajoling voice begging me to continue treatments as the radiation gave her power to kill errant cancer cells. Further analysis of the medallion revealed worn edging with small dents though it had never been out of its package. When I turned it over and read the words, I realized that her spirit had been with me all along. I put the medallion on and an immediate sense of courage coursed through me. I felt rejuvenated, invincible. Armed with my Viking princess, I returned to the cancer center and completed the grueling treatments. Since then, she has not left my side. Many women I’ve met through my support group have the same difficulty dealing with their cancer diagnoses and the after-effects. When they feel lost and vulnerable, I relate the story of my Viking princess to them and they find courage and strength, just as I did. As a cancer survivor, I found what once was a running debate between two friends is now a truth – I have strength. I continue to carry the medallion not only as a symbol of my strength, but also as a tribute to those facing adversity of any kind. A Definition of Strength What is strength? What does it mean to “be strong”? Strength has many definitions, is a relative term, and there are conflicting opinions of what it represents. Strength could be seen as having muscles, being durable, or relating to force. Now though, after surviving cancer, I am finally able to realize and admit that I have strength. I am strong. Works by Lorraine Inabinett Tea, dear? Grandma grappled with mental illness for most of her adult life. When my grandfather died, Grandma tried to kill herself by jumping off a bridge. Although she was told that she’d never walk again, she recovered sufficiently to walk with a cane. Severely handicapped, she could take care of her personal needs, but had no feeling below her waist. Her feet were twisted and partially paralyzed. My mother tried to settle Grandma into a tiny apartment near our house. I was just a baby when Grandpa died, so I don’t remember my mother’s or Grandma’s struggles. My first memories of Grandma are of a shadowy figure in darkened rooms, and the smell of urine. Grandma had no control over her bladder. Mom soon discovered that Grandma couldn’t be left alone. Grandma’s imagination drove her into episodes of insanity. She never harmed anyone else, but fear caused her to hallucinate and hide in darkness. Mom took her into our home. My little sister and I shared a bedroom. Cramped for space, Mom and Dad found a bed that could be made into a trundle bed for my sister and I, and Grandma was crowded into our room. Mom’s personality was perfect for Grandma. She was needy and, at the same time, brazen enough to force Grandma out of hiding. Her constant pleas for assistance stirred Grandma into action. Grandma’s maternal instincts motivated her to “save” her daughter. I can still hear my mother’s voice, “Mom, would you start dinner? Throw a load of laundry in the washer! Would you wash some dishes?” Mom needed the help. My sister was a victim of polio and Mom was kept busy with therapy, trying to supplement the family’s meager income, tiptoeing around my Dad’s volatile temper and raising three children. Surrounded by constant activity, Grandma couldn’t withdraw into fantasy and she became a vital part of our daily lives. Her help and encouragement became the expected norm. As a child, I was aware that Grandma had some physical problems, but they didn’t overshadow her important place in the family. “Would you like some tea, dear?” was Grandma’s daily invitation to sit and visit and prattle. She became my confidant and closest friend. In Grandma’s estimation, I was a genius. In fact, she thought that all of her grandchildren were geniuses. She admired everything we did. To us, she was love personified. As the years slipped by, Grandma became less fearful, though a knock on the door would send her fleeing to her bedroom. She found Jesus Christ and even attended some church meetings. Although she loved all of her children and many grandchildren, she was not demonstrative. In all the years she shared my bedroom she never hugged me. One day, years after I was married, I saw her at a large prayer meeting. She was sitting uncomfortably in the back, near the exit, wearing dark sunglasses and a coat, poised for a quick exit. When she saw me, she leapt to her feet and threw her arms around me. Mom and Dad were able to move Grandma into a small, singlewide mobile home next door to them. There, my mother could interact with her daily, and Grandma would entertain all of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, always offering a cup of tea. Grandma died a sane woman, largely, I believe, because of my mother’s relentless prodding. Many attended her funereal. No one could recall a negative thing about Grandma. We rejoiced in her memory. She had emerged from a dark prison of mental illness, and left, in her wake, a legacy of love. GRANDMA “How small she is!” It strikes me, as I stoop to kiss her cheek. “How old she looks; how weary, oh, how frail and bent and weak.” A stab of pain runs through me, as I touch her withered hands. I see how white her hair is, and how thin her silvered strands. If only I could cuddle her and kiss away the years. Instead, I turn and fumble with my purse to hide the tears. Though overcome by helpless grief, and struggling with dismay, I mask my sadness with a laugh, paste on a smile and say, “The kids are growing quickly. You should see the way they eat! I think they will be very tall. They have enormous feet.” This gentle woman smiles with joy; the same joy I recall That showed when she would say to me “My dear, you're getting tall.” How young I was. I did not know that time would slip away And take from me this woman at whose feet I used to play. “We all grow old,” I sadly think, “and everybody dies.” “But Grandma cannot fade away!” The child in me replies. I look into her steady eyes and suddenly feel calm, For deep within her lives the One Who silences each qualm. And as she gently kisses me, I know with certainty That loving her has made me face my own mortality. ©Lorraine Inabinett
“We’re going to visit Elyse this weekend. Take along a book for the car ride.” Mom smiled, tucking sandwiches and apples into a bag.
I define strength as having endurance or the ability to overcome adversity. It’s what empowers people to stand firm under pressure or to face obstacles head on. Some people have it and some don't. I think it can be acquired or learned, but I believe it's an inherent, intrinsic trait.
Most people with this viewpoint often don't see themselves as strong. To inquire about their strength or say they are strong brings instantaneous denial. They reply that they just do what needs to be done. And they won’t think twice about it.
That’s how I was. When people commented about how much strength I had or how strong I was, I would scoff at them. I couldn’t, and didn’t, recognize myself in thatlight.
Enhancing Your Backyard Bird Watching Experience
by
John Wollitz
Backyard bird watching is one of the most relaxing and inexpensive hobbies you can pursue along with your family and friends. It is both fun and educational because you can learn a great deal about your environment and survival from the various species of birds that are prevalent in your local area.
Equipment Necessary for Backyard Bird Watching
Birds are very sensitive to sound and the presence of humans so you have to maintain a safe distance so that the birds aren't frightened away. Because of this, a pair of binoculars is a must if you want to watch the birds behave in their normal manner. If you want to keep a record of the birds you see, you may want to invest in a camera with a telephoto lens as well. Having pictures will also aid you in researching the birds so that you can later look-up the species of the birds you have seen either over the Internet, or at your local library.
Most birdwatchers who take their hobby seriously also keep a journal to record the various types of birds they see. It can also be used to take notes on their different behaviors as well. It can be fascinating to go through the pages of your journal every year as you will observe some of the same birds returning to almost the exact same location at the same time of the year. After doing this for a few years, you will find yourself waiting for them and predicting the time of the year that each species of bird returns.
Attracting Birds to Your Backyard
There are many different ways in which you can attract birds to your backyard to ensure that they visit your home. One of the most common practices is to install a water fountain or birdbath where the birds can find relief from the scorching summer sun and quench their thirst. You can also provide them with a feeding place by putting a birdfeeder in your yard or hanging one from a nearby tree. You may want to experiment with different types of birdseed and food in order to learn what types of food attract various species of birds. You can also provide some nesting facilities by strategically hanging birdhouses in the trees in your yard. If you don't have trees, birdhouses that sit atop stands are available as well. You may be surprised that some of the birds may adopt your bird houses as their home and return to them every year.
Backyard bird watching can turn into a fun and enjoyable adventure for the whole family if you dedicate some time to this pursuit. You will find that you can recognize most of the different species of birds each season without having to look up their picture and description. You will also learn their behavior and habits.
Helpful Tips
When preparing for backyard bird watching, be sure that you have plenty of water and some high energy snacks available, especially if you plan to spend several hours under cover entertaining your hobby. A baseball cap or visor during the summer time and a stocking cap in winter will protect you from the sun and cold respectively. Also, during the summer, you'll want to have plenty of bug and insect repellant, as well as suntan lotion if you aren't watching the birds from a shaded area.
Birds can be fascinating creatures to observe and in time you will find yourself planning bird watching vacations, especially if your family enjoys the same backyard bird watching hobby as you do. If you've been looking for ideas on how to bring your family closer together, then you'll seriously want to consider getting them involved in bird watching.
Brought to you as a courtesy from the Bird Feeders Store, a member of the Backyard Birdfeeders network.
Article Source: http://www.reprint-content.com
Blind Author Coaches Aspiring Writers
by
Glenn Dietzel
Ronda Del Boccio happens to be legally blind, but she does not let this stop her doing anything she sets her mind to accomplishing. She operates several blogs, creates videos that are posted on numerous websites and is now called The Story Lady all over the web.
New authors may believe that if their book is published in
Ronda Del Boccio studied the publishing industry and understood its pitfalls. She knew she could write a book and knew she would have to learn about sales and marketing. But she had no idea how to break out of the “poor writer” mode until she found the step-by-step approach that showed her how to grow her reputation and develop a business around her book.
Del Boccio invested in a proven system that teaches would-be authors how to write a money-making book in 12 hours of actual writing time and use it as a lead generator for a thriving business. She learned how to utilize web 2.0 technology, such as creating videos and working with forums and social bookmarking sites, to promote her book and business.
While a client of Entrepreneurial Authoring Program, she co-authored I’ll Push, You Steer: The Definitive Guide to Stumbling Through Life with Blinders On, which went from idea to best seller in less than six months. She and co-author Bonnie Tesh were guest speakers both live and on teleseminars before they completed their book, my system teaches clients how to make money from an incomplete manuscript and start growing a reputation even before the book is complete.
“Participating in this program was one of the best decisions I have ever made,” Del Boccio said. Her second book, The Kama Sutra of Storytelling: Positioning, Power and Profit, is currently available as an electronic book. “I’m getting feedback from readers and refining my storytelling system before going into ink and paper,” she said.
Del Boccio happens to be legally blind, but she does not let this stop her doing anything she sets her mind to accomplishing. She operates several blogs, creates videos that are posted on numerous websites, and is now called The Story Lady all over the web.
I call her “Rockin’ Ronda,” hired her to work with my company, so now she coaches aspiring authors to use the Entrepreneurial Authoring system. She says, “If a mostly blind woman can do this, so can YOU.”
"What My Mom Did For Me"
by
Thomas H. Woodworth
Mom took me to church. Faith has been so important to me, no less during recent trials of life, of course, than at other times. One vivid memory, from not so long ago, is Mom comparing the faith I claimed to have, with how I was reacting (none too well) to some of life’s inevitable bad times. She believed in a God who was always beside you and always, somehow, loving you fully.
I didn’t stay on a very straight path when it came to faith . . . but I did come back to the main road, where she walked. She met me there, and told me how happy she was that I was back with her. This started with the every-Sunday ritual, from earliest life, of dressing up and going to church.
Mom cooked. When I would come to visit, I learned to expect, always, one question: “Are you hungry?” Mom loved to cook, as someone will love something they are very good at. How was she feeling after heart surgery? It wasn’t that long, but when I came in the door, she was fussing over something that was on the stove. Okay, she’s feeling fine.
Mom made sure I had something sweet. For many years, homemade cookies came by mail, at holiday times and “just because” times. These were a genuine event where I worked, when I brought them in. Once, when I had moved to another department, where I was working, emissaries from the old department stopped by to make sure cookies would still be available to them.
Mom bought me a pair of trousers. I do remember one in particular. “You needed a pair, didn’t you?” Maybe I thought I did; just as possibly, I had no idea – no idea that items in my existing wardrobe could, possibly, be worn out, even the least bit. This let alone things I’ve found, from time to time, with more than one hole . . . that I wore just recently. Everything always has several more wearings left in it, right? But if she were to see them . . . . And those years, when I was little, that there was a new suit for Easter.
Mom taught me to say, “Thank you.” Mom considered Thank You Notes as natural, and expected, as the thank you said right when you receive a gift. Since I, instead, saw them as drudgery – this was when I was a kid, you understand – she put forth continual effort in prodding me to get them done. I wonder if anyone ever said anything to her about the thank you notes I did, for a short while, using carbon paper. She always said “Thank you” with a note, so I shouldn’t’ve been surprised when I got one after I put together her 90th birthday party.
Mom waited for me. Certain choices I made in this life didn’t make sense, or weren’t well thought out. (An understatement that!) But Mom let me make them. When I did the right thing, she was quick to tell me she thought I had. And just as quick when I changed or came out of a wrong thing.
Mom told me to try again. Whenever I was so tired of waiting, or so tired of failing, that I was ready just to give up, because there was no point in trying anymore [I thought], she persistently told me to get up again and go on.
Mom showed me what love is. Giving gifts, providing support, teaching. But also, telling you what is true about yourself and what you’ve done, letting you know of what life really consists, and that it is NOT always pleasant. But however it is – now – you live it.©Thomas H. Woodworth
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Inspiration, Aspiration, and Compassion
By
Mitch Williams
Victor Frankl, who was a Holocaust survivor, wrote on the essential nature of "Man's Search for Meaning." While in
What is it that drives some of us beyond the common "quiet desperation" or mediocrity? And what is it that all of us, at some level, are in fact seeking?
In our modern society of consumerism and materially driven excess, it's become all too easy to mistake "getting things" with success. We try desperately to equate acquisition with fulfillment. But no matter how much material wealth we accumulate, the sad truth is that "more" is never enough.
While necessarily subjective and very personal, a sense of purpose is nonetheless essential if we have any hope for true happiness and fulfillment in life. It is this sense of aspiration that moves us to become who we truly are, to reach for our highest potential.
But if it's not material success, what is it?
I would contend that even material goals, when seen rightly, are merely the carrot that draws us onward to the deeper and more fulfilling arena of "Being and Becoming", of striving to manifest more and more of our potential, or of what Abraham Maslow called "Self Actualization".
To be inspired, or "In the spirit", and to be caught up in the resulting aspiration that moves us to action,... or to contemplation,... or to whatever else our deepest intuitive Voice tells us unerringly will move us most directly towards our ever increasing potential, is inevitably the only source of true fulfillment and peace of mind.
What a crime it is that our materially driven "modern" society fights nearly ceaselessly to deaden and blot out this pure drive to inspiration and aspiration. And only those who are truly "awake" and alive in a real sense seem to be able to avoid the seductive call of consumerism.
But in each moment we can choose again. We can choose aspiration over desperation, and inspiration over numbness. And only in this choice can we hope to change the world. For here too lies the heart of true compassion.
The choice is ours.
What will your choice be?
The Benefits of Reading at a Young Age |
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How many books did you read as a kid? While it is true that some children will never be seen without a book, it can be hard work getting every child to read enthusiastically. Yet this is the key stage in their lives when a love of reading should be developed in order to give them plenty of enjoyment throughout their adult lives as well. Television certainly has its place in modern society but when it comes to books you can develop your knowledge in a number of ways. There is no doubt that children Image from:Royalty Free Clip Art
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who are voracious readers tend to be able to spell more easily as a result: a skill that can be taken forward to be used in any job or career in the future.