Writing

Memoir Writing. Narcissistic or a Gift?

Featured in Vibrant Nation “Why do you feel compelled to tell everyone your story?” a friend asked after reading my memoir-in-progress posts. I was unsure if she thought me narcissistic. And when I do finish my story, readers will discover that I’m on the other end of narcissism. So I didn’t know if I should take offense or not. On the other hand, her question forced me to perform some dot connecting. As a young girl who bounced from the good life, []

“Would You Sleep With a Black Man?” — Thoughts On Racism

Passionate and powerful writers lay their words on cyber paper about the state of racism in America today.  Some scribe and speak (lightly veiled) disgust towards the Civil Rights Act and the fact that America’s president is partially black—of certain African descent, no less. Others, and possibly the majority–based on the last presidential election—are color blind. Barack Obama’s karma led him to rekindle and review the state of racism in America. What I’ve read and heard during this 50th anniversary of the []

ULTIMATE Life Goal Answer Keeps Me Bare-Skinned

Today I heard the best security question ever.  But, first, a quick back story. In 2009 I took out a secured loan.  A small balance remained.  Presently, I’m near the end of standing naked in an allegorical spread-sheet format before bankers, credit companies, loan specialists, underwriters, and other such entities in the mortgage refinance business. “The underwriters would like you to pay off that 2009 secured loan,” noted one of the above persons.  “Please show the account that you used to pay []

Embracing My Sensitivity

I discovered yesterday that my sensitivity to spoken  words is a weakness, a fault, and a chip on my shoulder. Admittedly, I’m a sensitive person.  I can cry watching car commercials.  Tears flood my eyes when I watch adorable pet videos on You Tube.  A beautifully worded poem will cost my box of tissue about 10 tissues.  When a soulful guitar solo wafts towards my ears, the whites of my eyes turn red and I sniffle through the song.  Yes, I’m a []

An Anniversary Card To Spouse

Serendipity introduced me to my first husband at age 17.  A week after our meeting he promised that we would marry some day.  I laughed out loud.  At age 27 I was his widow with two children. I lacked a life-plan.  And on that late summer day when my children’s father unexpectedly died, helter-skelter reintroduced itself. I involuntarily joined the Hapless Young Widows Club (HYWC).  HYWC isn’t a chartered nonprofit organization.  But HYWC does chart a rugged path of misjudgment and denial, and []

The Power of Post Menopausal Women

I’m still catching my breath after a vigorous walk with a woman who became my friend after seeking me out because, she explained, “I like your energy levels.”  I remain flattered.  I remain so because this woman, of the same generation as I, harbors so much energy that she could power up the lights on Main Street.   Another friend, soon to celebrate her 70th birthday, actively seeks a new career as a lifestyle model (code for a senior citizen model).   She []